A Christmas Wish
by Michelle Pruitt
Summary: Hermione Granger has been plagued with a secret her entire life, and a certain red-haired Weasley won't stop until he finds out what it is, even if its revelation sends the fate of the entire wizarding world careening in an entirely new direction...
1. Chapter 1

A/N – This story will have a little bit of everything. It's primarily romance, but there will also be comedy, drama, angst, action, etc. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Mommy, mommy, Christmas is coming!" A thrilled, energetic Hermione bounced along the wooden floor towards her mother's open arms, curly hair flailing behind her like an untamable wave of the sea. True joy and excitement shone in her eyes, electrified by the prospect of Christmas presents and candy.

"Yes, sweetie, Christmas is coming!" Her mother said with an equally bright smile on her face, gathering her nine year old daughter into her arms. She stroked the untamed mass of hair, trying to coax it into something more manageable. She shook her head in frustration when she was, yet again, unsuccessful. She had fervently hoped that Hermione would inherit her own thin, soft, and straight hair, but instead the little girl had ended up with her father's unruly locks.

"Santa's coming again this year, isn't he?" Hermione asked. She had always been skeptical of the concept of a single man delivering presents to all the children of the world in one night, she was too sharp to just accept the story that had been told to all the other kids. However, this Santa Clause figure had yet to disappoint her, and so she believed.

"Yes, honey. What do you want from Santa this year?" Her mother asked, although she knew the answer already. It had been the same every year since Hermione read her first words.

"Books! Books books books!" Hermione chanted feverishly, jumping up and down at each exclamation for added emphasis.

Her mother hid a smile at her daughter's enthusiasm. Hermione hadn't only just inherited her father's hair, but she had taken his love for reading and multiplied it into an obsession. Already she had devoured the children's section in the library and was steadily moving through the books for teens.

"Isn't there anything else you want? Anything at all?" Her mother asked, trying to get Hermione to broaden her horizons a little.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she plunged into deep thought. What could one want, other than books? What else was there? She had never truly considered it before. She had friends to play with, books to read, music to dance to… what else could there possibly be?

Her eyes lit up in a sudden moment of revelation. For years she had idolized the many beautiful princesses in fairy tales, sometimes daydreaming that she was one of them. She wished for a prince to save her from known peril, and whisk her away to a castle to live happily ever after. She had her wish, something just as desirable as a good book. She wanted a prince.

Hermione had such a fierce look of determination about her that her mother almost laughed

"Mother, I've made up my mind." She said in her most official voice.

"Yes, dear?" Her mother asked expectantly, playing along with Hermione's game.

"I want a prince!" She declared just as proudly as if she had discovered a new world.

Her mother looked a little taken aback for a moment, but regained her composure quickly. "Honey, that's not something that Santa can give…"

"I don't care, that's what I want! I've made up my mind." Hermione said defiantly. "We can live in a castle and get married and rule our kingdom and live happily ever after…" Hermione was lost in the world of fantasy.

"Honey, I just don't think that-"

"Santa will give it to me, mommy. You just wait. Santa always gives the good children what they want for Christmas, he'll get me a true prince for sure. You'll see."

"You'll see….."

The innocent voice faded into a blur as Hermione felt herself being pulled gently away from her dream, her clutches on its fragile memory slowly losing their grip. Her mind began to process events and facts from her current life, breaking her groggy hold with the younger Hermione. She slipped away from the fantasy world of her past, becoming more and more immersed with reality by the minute. Finally, she was conscious again, and opened her eyes to see the familiar guest bedroom in the Burrow.

She shook her head and smiled faintly at the journey back to her childhood. What a silly child she had been, hoping for something that no one could control. So determined, she'd thought she knew everything at such a young age. Things had changed so dramatically since then, she had matured, now she knew better.

Fairy tales didn't come true.

She was content to stare at the ceiling, wrapping herself in her blankets to shield off the winter chill. Her brow furrowed much in the same way as it had when she was a child confronted with a problem she couldn't immediately solve. She'd had the same recurring dream three nights in a row now, whereas before she'd never even thought of that memory. It had completely slipped her mind until the dream brought it back, and reality sunk back in.

Her mother had been right, she didn't get her prince.

Hermione shook her head, trying to dislodge the pessimistic thoughts. _Come on, Hermione, snap out of it. _She thought. _The perfect world of romance isn't for you anyways, and you know it. No man will ever make you happy like a book can!_

Emboldened by her own reinforcing thoughts, she got out of bed and faced the chilled air, wrapping a blanket around herself for warmth. The rest of the house wouldn't be up for a few hours, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. She was too conscious, her mind was racing too quickly with thoughts of her dream to slow down.

She walked through the halls and down the stairs, her slippers making soft scratching noises on the wooden floor. She entered the kitchen, put a pot full of water and tea on the stove, and sat down to wait for it to heat. There was nothing that soothed her nerves more than a steaming cup of tea, especially in a winter as brutal as this.

Almost as if on cue, a frigid wind swept through the kitchen. Hermione pulled the blanket closer, guarding herself against the sudden onslaught of ice and snow. She ducked her face against the sting of the wind, trying to keep as warm as possible. Where had the blizzard come from?

Soon the wind stopped, and Hermione heard the front door slam. Her heart jumped into her chest as her immediate thought was that someone was robbing the Burrow. What should she do? Wake someone up and tell them? Run and hide, or face the perpetrator?

_Come on, Hermione, you're a Gryffindor. Pull yourself together and face the intruder head on!_ Hermione thought bravely to herself as she stood and picked up a bat. Mr. Weasley had left it in the kitchen after rambling on and on during dinner about the fascinating uses Muggles found for the odd-looking stick. She gripped it, fairly certain that its use tonight would not be one Mr. Weasley had previously thought of, and prepared to face the intruder.

She ducked around the corner, listening painfully close for the footsteps of one who was trying too hard to be quiet when he walked. She silently moved the bat into a swinging position, ready to annihilate whoever turned the corner. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs until she could feel them stretch, and released the breath, taking care not to make any noise. The breath did nothing to calm her rapidly beating heart or soothe her frantic nerves.

She heard an ominous creak in the floorboard, the noise alarmingly loud and close. The intruder was just on the other side of the corner that she was behind. It was now or never.

Hermione mustered all her strength, jumped from around the corner and swung the bat towards her target with all the force her small frame was capable of. She was met with astonished blue eyes, eyes so unique that she would recognize anywhere, and realized her deadly mistake.

But it was too late to stop now.

"Whoa!" He responded instinctively as his quidditch honed reflexes forced him to jerk his arm up and stop the bat. A loud clunk issued from where the bat hit his outstretched hand, easily stopping the blow that was meant for his head. He silently thanked all those years of hitting and dodging bludgers out on the quidditch pitch, it quite possibly had just saved his life.

Hermione recognized her mistake almost as immediately as Fred had stopped her, and futilely tried to reverse her attempt. However, physics were already in motion, the objects set in their journey, and trying to stop them only resulted in a mess. Her left foot stepped backwards while the right foot kept going, her brain not really sure what she was supposed to be doing. She lost her balance, and started to fall to the side.

Fred's eyes widened for the second time in as many seconds as he realized what was happening. He darted forward, his knees hitting the floor, arms outstretched, wondering if he would make it in time.

Hermione was so sure she would hit the hard, wooden floor that she was actually surprised when she didn't. Instead of receiving a shocking blow to the head, strong arms encircled her falling form. Fred was on his knees, holding her mere centimeters from the ground, his eyes only inches away from hers.

"Easy there, Hermione." He breathed. His breath was warm on her cold nose.

Hermione gazed at him in shock. It wasn't an intruder, it was Fred! What had she done? She had just attempted to assassinate her best friend's brother, and here she was, snuggled up in his arms like nothing was wrong!

Her face promptly turned a glorious shade of crimson at this revelation.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed as she practically jumped a mile out of his arms, back into the realm where she was in control. "I didn't know… I thought… You sounded like an intruder, and… Oh, Fred, I'm so sorry!"

She stumbled away from him, horribly embarrassed.

"It's okay, it's not like you actually hurt me." Fred answered. "But you might want to be more careful when swinging that thing around." He motioned towards the bat.

Hermione argued defensively, "Well, you sounded like a thief, with the way you were creeping around. You can't blame me for trying to protect my friends. Why were you sneaking, anyways?"

"I got back earlier than I planned to, and didn't want to wake everyone up, although at this point I'd be surprised if any of them are still asleep. I didn't think I'd be attacked in my own house for trying to be quiet."

Hermione blushed again. She hated embarrassment, she always managed to avoid it with her brains and personality. She hated feeling like the stupid girl. She wanted to justify herself, make others understand why she did what she did, then the embarrassment didn't burn so shamefully.

"Well… you can't blame me, I didn't know who you were." Hermione argued, refusing to be brought down. "You come back after two years and expect me to recognize you?"

"Well, considering you see my identical twin, George, all the time, it shouldn't have been that big of a shock." Fred pointed out. "You're the one who looks… different…" He swallowed on the last word, as if he was trying to find a more suiting one.

Hermione felt herself blush again.

She shifted her feet awkwardly. This wasn't how she wanted to greet Fred, not with narrowed eyes and suspicion. She wanted to brush it off as nothing, but her pride refused to let her forget. Her pride refused to let herself be embarrassed like that. It was a part of herself that she wanted to change, a part she wished was more docile. The part of herself that refused to let things go and move on.

"Just… don't tell anyone, okay?" Hermione asked weakly.

Fred chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the entire family has heard, these walls aren't exactly thick. And we weren't quiet during our little adventure, either. They'll find out, one way or another. There are no secrets in this family."

Hermione still fought. "Please, Fred. They'd tease me endlessly, you know how they are."

Fred sighed in defeat. "Alright, I promise not to tell, as long as you promise not to try and attack innocent intruders anymore."

Hermione laughed. "It's a deal, then."

Fred smiled lightheartedly back at her, and their eyes met. His eyes were a graceful yet untamed blue that she had never appreciated before. She felt as if she was holding onto his gaze like a lifeline in a stormy sea. She remembered the comforting feel of his arms around her, protecting her, keeping her safe. She felt a lump growing in her throat, she felt knots forming in her stomach. She didn't know what was happening, but she didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit. She learned at an early age that princes didn't exist, it was no use hoping for someone that wasn't real.

She shook her head furiously. Since when had she started seeing Fred in that way? He was her best friend's brother, and yes, he was her friend too, but he was definitely nothing more than that. She blamed it on her nerves that had still not quite loosened, and the sudden contact when he'd caught her. That had to be it. In a few days, she'd be back to her normal self. This strange feeling would go away with time, surely.

She sighed. She really needed that tea right about now.

She turned to go back into the kitchen. Over her shoulder she asked, "I'm making some tea, you're welcome to have some too."

Fred answered, "Sure, I'd like that. Just let me put my stuff away."

Hermione went into the kitchen to pour the hot liquid from the kettle, while upstairs Fred woke up his twin, George, with a shock.

"George, get up, this is important!" Fred jumped up and down on a very angry George's bed.

"What is WRONG with you? It's nearly 4 in the morning, whatever it is can wait!" George yelled from under the covers, the resulting sound being a little muffled but discernable none the less.

"Aw, Georgey, I've been gone for nearly two years and this is all you can say to me? That hurts, my dearest twin. That hurts." Fred put a hand over his heart, acting pained.

George threw his covers off of his bed in a furious huff, obviously distressed at his interrupted sleep. "Alright, what's so important that you had to wake me up at this ungodly hour of the morning?"

Fred looked at him with sudden fury in his gaze. "All this time there was a smoking hott girl living in this house and you didn't tell me?"

Confusion was a word that didn't come close to describing the level of bafflement on George's face. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I don't know, Hermione, maybe? George, honestly, you can't say you haven't seen it. She's changed these past two years. There's a beautiful girl living in our house and you didn't even tell me! Ultimate treason, fifty lashes!" Fred bellowed.

George hung his head in his hands. "Oh I should have known this would happen…"

Fred flopped down on the bed, disturbing a considerable number of blankets. "What is that supposed to mean?"

George sighed, the lack of sleep shortening his patience a little. "Hermione hasn't ever gone out with any guys. Have you ever seen her with one? We all thought she'd end up with Ron, and it still hasn't happened. Every time someone asks her out, she just shoots them down. It's like she doesn't want to be with anyone. I don't really understand, but don't get involved. She'll just say no."

Fred looked thoroughly confused for a few moments. "George, you do remember who you're talking to, right? Telling me it's impossible is only going to make me more determined. You should know that better than anyone."

George shook his head. "Seriously, Fred. Let this one go. If she wants to be alone, let her be alone."

"I'll let her make that decision." Fred replied, a grim look of determination on his face.

George rolled his eyes, he knew that words would mean nothing until after Fred had failed. He rolled back underneath the covers, desperate to get the sleep that had been so rudely stolen from him. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Fred." Soon sleep had wrapped its clutches around George once again, and Fred was left standing in his twin's dark room.

"We'll see, George. We'll see." Fred said quietly as he left to meet his challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey guys! Here's chapter 2. If you guys want to drop me a review that would be great, reviews motivate me to write faster… and therefore make updates arrive sooner! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2

Hermione shook her head in wonder at the Weasley family's incredible ability to sleep. She and Fred had caused enough noise to equal that of an earthquake, and now Fred and George could be heard screaming at unearthly decibels. She was amazed that the entire family hadn't woken up and assaulted them with questions.

Hermione's contemplative thoughts were interrupted when Fred entered the kitchen. She glanced up from her cup of tea, her breath catching in her throat a little. Fred seemed different to her somehow, even though she had watched George grow up and they were identical, after all. There was something about him that captivated her, something that George didn't have.

Hermione shook her head again. What was _wrong_ with her? She had never thought this much about any boy, ever. She had never been affected this way. She'd always thought she was above that, immune to the petty whims of teenage hormones.

_It's just because you haven't seen him in a while,_ she thought to herself. _You're excited to see him again. That's all it is._

_ Either way, I have to get rid of these feelings._

"You okay?" Fred's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Huh?" Hermione responded, surprised at the sudden voice.

"You looked like you had just bit into a lemon. Thinking about something nasty?" Fred joked.

"No… not nasty, exactly…" Hermione started blushing again, before she could do anything to stop it. _What is with this annoying blushing?_ She thought furiously. _This has never happened before, such a nuisance…_

Fred poured himself a cup of tea and joined Hermione at the table. Luckily by now her blush had receded into a dull, faded pink. But, of course, Fred still managed to notice the pink tinted remains of the blush that was so furious moments ago.

An amused smirk crossed his face.

"What?" Hermione asked, slightly frustrated.

"Absolutely nothing." Fred said, the smirk still playing across his face.

"Seriously, what is it?" Hermione asked, a little more forcefully. "Do I have something on my face? What?"

"No, no, you don't."

"…then what is so funny?" Hermione asked again, hoping to get some sort of response.

Fred looked at her a moment before replying, "That, my dear, is for me to know, and for you to find out."

Hermione slumped back into her chair, defeated. Fred was impossible, definitely one for dangling secrets over people's heads. She promptly decided on a change of subject, deciding that whatever Fred was thinking she probably didn't really want to know anyways. At least, that's what she told herself.

"So, Fred, how was your trip?" Hermione asked, trying to sound conversational.

"… I apparated, Hermione." Fred pointed out with another knowing smirk.

"Oh. Right." Hermione said stupidly. Of course she had known he apparated, what was wrong with her? It was almost as if she was only asking him questions to hear his voice, just to know he was talking to her and no one else. But that wasn't possible, not for Hermione Granger.

"So, how's the shop doing?" Hermione asked.

"Brilliantly. Apparently American wizards are just as into playing pranks as we are. We're thinking of opening another chain along the west coast." Fred replied, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

"Really? Already? Wow, Fred, this thing is really taking off for you guys." Hermione said proudly.

"Yeah, and I love it, too. It's just… well… it gets kind of lonely sometimes, you know? Traveling everywhere, never staying in one place long enough to settle down. I've been looking forward to coming back here for a long time." Fred said, continuing to gaze deep into his tea cup as he slowly swished the remains around, as if all the answers in the world could be found in the artificially flavored liquid.

"But, I'm sure with a guy like you, you never end up spending a Saturday night alone." Hermione pointed out. Fred had always been rather popular at home, she didn't see why things would be any different in America.

"True, true, people love me. What can I say? But it's not like coming home to your family and friends. I've known people here for my entire life, it's hard to find people like that in a new place." Fred replied.

"So, there's no… I mean, you don't have a… a girlfriend?" Hermione asked, trying to sound conversational but at the same time knowing that her face was heating up again.

Fred lifted his gaze from the tea cup, finally looking into her eyes. She felt a shiver run up her spine, wondering if he somehow knew what she was thinking. _Well, this is Fred we're dealing with, _Hermione thought to herself, _he probably spiked the tea with veritaserum while I wasn't looking and now knows all my deepest, innermost thoughts._

"No. There's no one." Fred said, still holding her gaze so gently as if it might break.

Hermione felt her heart lift inside of her chest, just a little, at his words.

"What about you? Any significant other, anyone I need to beat up?" Fred asked, much more easily than Hermione had managed to do.

Hermione stuttered, "What? A wha- what?" If she had been drinking at that particular moment, she was sure she would've choked on a killer amount of tea.

Fred repeated, annunciating every syllable clearly. "A boyfriend. Do you have one?"

Hermione forcibly gulped, feeling as if she had just swallowed a rather large and nasty cockroach. "No. I don't." She finally managed.

Fred laughed lightly, saying, "I find that hard to believe."

Hermione answered, "Huh? What is that supposed to mean?" It was the second time in as many minutes that she felt clueless and completely lost. It was so different for her to not be at the forefront of the conversation, strange yet somehow invigorating to not know what was coming next. She was taking every word as it came, instead of predicting what would happen like she normally did. Reacting with her gut instinct.

Fred put down his cup of tea with a little more force than was necessary. "Hermione, look at yourself. You're beautiful. You can't tell me that guys haven't tried to ask you out."

"Well…" Hermione was, for once in her life, at a loss for words. He'd said she was beautiful. Such a simple declaration, and yet… no other words had ever left her speechless.

"What, are you scared of boys, Hermione?" Fred teased with a slight smile.

Hermione tried to look as if the very thought was ridiculous. "What? No, that's absurd, my best friends are boys!"

Fred stood up, walking around to her. "So you won't be freaked out at all if one suddenly gets close to you?"

Hermione instinctively got up, backing away. "Well, Ron and Harry! They're close to me all the time!"

Fred continued taunting her, the grin on his face growing wider by the minute, "Dearest Hermione, you seem to be missing the point. A boyfriend is not the same thing as boys who are your friends. And Harry and Ron hardly count as boys, anyways."

"Um… um… um…" Hermione was very aware that she had backed against the counter at this point, and Fred was still advancing. He had that trademark maniacal grin that meant he was up to no good, Hermione knew if she didn't get out then she would have no chance against his schemes.

"What's the matter, Hermione, you said you weren't afraid of boys." Fred taunted, placing both hands on the counter space beside her so that she was trapped, the sight of her so uncomfortable was just too good to pass up.

"I'm not! Just… get away!" Hermione answered, her eyes wide with uncertainty. He was close, much too close, his face mere inches away from hers. Her heart was pounding, and she still had no idea why. All she knew was that this feeling had to stop. She reached behind her, her fingers closing around a blunt, metal object.

"Aw, come on, Hermione, we- OOF!" Fred doubled over from a blow to his stomach.

"HA! Take THAT!" Hermione said proudly as she dashed away, brandishing a gleaming spatula.

"Hermione, that's the second time you've assaulted me tonight!" Fred protested, his mouth wide open in shock.

"Back! Back, you cretin!" Hermione spat while furiously swinging the spatula at him like he was some sort of dog.

"Whoa, seriously, calm down!" Fred futilely tried to reason with her while simultaneously protecting himself against the vehement wrath of the evil spatula. He was backing up now, backing far away from Hermione's crazed rant. Unfortunately, both she and her spatula refused to let him go without a fight.

"That'll teach you a lesson, don't you EVER advance on an innocent girl like that you womanizing, low, filthy-"

"AHA!" Fred exclaimed in glee as he brought up a wooden spoon to block her attacks.

Hermione gasped. "That's not fair, Fred Weasley!"

Fred taunted, "Whassamatter, afraid of a little competition?" He towered over her, trying to intimidate her, his breath stirring her unnaturally frizzy hair and grazing over her cheek.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Oh, this was going to be good. Fred wouldn't know what hit him when she was done with him.

Without answering, she smacked him in the gut again.

"You little cheater! That's against the rules!" Fred yelled as he chased after her, swinging his wooden spoon and laughing maniacally like a serial killer.

"There ARE no rules, Fred Weasley! Take it like a champion!" Hermione barked as she brandished her spatula valiantly against his attacks.

Fred ducked behind an oversized pan for defense as Hermione continued swinging at him like a woman deranged. A brilliant array of percussion clanged disturbingly loudly as the two continued their assault. Hermione, momentarily thwarted by the evil pan, darted around it in mad pursuit of Fred Weasley once again.

They ran around the island counter in a frantic circle, neither one catching the other, each one slipping dangerously on the kitchen tile every time they turned a corner. "I'll KILL you Fred, I swear if I ever get my hands on you-"

Fred stopped suddenly, a smirk growing on his face as a brilliant idea struck him. "No rules, right, Hermione?" He spun around to the sink, twisting the nozzle so a jet of water went straight for her. "Then take THIS! HAAA!"

Hermione shrieked as the cold water hit her, soaking through her sweater and pants. Her eyes opened wide, staring at him in shock. She ducked behind the counter to shield herself, but still felt a wave of water cascading over her head. She continued shrieking, covering her head with her hands even though it did nothing to protect her against the downpour.

"What the DEVIL is going on?" The voice pierced like a bolt of lightning through the racket they had made. Booming, ominous footsteps could be heard walking quickly towards the kitchen. Fred's eyes widened in horror, this scene was all too familiar to him Hermione looked up at Fred and smirked. She stood up, leaning close to him until they were a mere inches apart.

"Don't mess with me, Fred Weasley." Her words were barely a whisper. She whirled around, and let forth a glorious scream.

"Mrs. Weasley! Fred's attacking me!" She wailed.

Fred immediately realized what she was doing and frantically tried to stop her. "No, no no no NO!" He said futilely.

Mrs. Weasley thundered down the stairs in all of her bedridden glory. Her sleepy eyes rested on the fantastic scene before her and immediately snapped to life at the shock. Hermione, dripping wet, looking like some sort of soaked revenge goddess, and Fred, standing not too far away from her looking terribly guilty with the spout clenched in his hand.

"Mom, it's not what you think-"

"FRED WEASLEY! In all my years I have NEVER seen such behavior from any of my children!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed like a speaker on its highest volume, her face turning an angry shade of bright red.

"But mom, I-"

"No! NO! Don't you make excuses to me, young man, you should NEVER treat a lady in such a way!" She viciously shook her finger in Fred's direction.

"Gosh, Fred, all I asked was how your shop was doing, you don't have to blow up at me like that!" Hermione wailed, her voice sounding suddenly broken and despaired.

Fred stared at her in open-mouthed horror. No, she couldn't be… she couldn't possibly… oh, he was going to get in so much trouble.

Mrs. Weasley's mood changed in a heartbeat. She gathered the blanket that Hermione had had earlier, gesturing for Hermione to come closer. "Hermione, sweetie, I'm so sorry, come here, you must be dreadfully cold… you just go upstairs and take a nice, hot shower and go back to sleep, okay?"

"Thank you, ." Hermione said sweetly as she wiped convincing tears away from her face. She started to head up the stairs, but turned around when she heard that Mrs. Weasley was tearing into Fred once again.

She caught his eye, and vehemently stuck her tongue out. Fred's mouth dropped in shock, but Hermione darted up the stairs before he could say anything to her.

She happily strolled to her room, looking forward to her hot shower, Mrs. Weasley's feverish cries like music to her ears following her the entire way.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favorites! I really appreciate it. Support is always welcome. Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 3

Hermione stepped out of the shower, towel-drying her hair, a wide grin still on her face from the sight of Fred's obvious distress. She put on her pajamas, a t-shirt and some shorts, and tied her hair up into a twist to keep it out of the way as she slept. The episode downstairs had left her surprisinglydrowsy, and she now found herself more than ready to go back to bed and sleep late into the afternoon the next day. The faintest signs of sunrise were beginning to show over the horizon, she wanted to get to sleep before it became bright enough to keep her awake. She collapsed on the olive green comforter, quickly burying herself under the covers.

_Welcome home, Fred Weasley_, she thought to herself.

She let a slight giggle escape her mischievous lips before falling asleep once again.

XXXXXX

Fred trudged up the stairs. He had been defeated, he had to admit it. Hermione had ousted him in this fight, and now his mother hated him for something that she didn't even understand. Through the trip, the intense fight with Hermione, and then the scolding from his mother, poor Fred was exhausted. He just wanted to head up to his room, snuggle under his olive green comforter, and fall into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

Fred stumbled through his bedroom door, closing the door behind him. He didn't bother turning the light on, he still knew where everything was despite being gone for two years. He kicked off his shoes, succumbed to the lure of slumber, and fell onto the bed without a second thought.

He was asleep so fast he didn't notice the gentle rustle of blankets right next to him.

XXXXXXX

_ Hermione's mother, smiling at her, beckoning her to come close. Waves of lavender and pastel pink embraced her, wrapping her in comfort, promising Hermione the warmth and love she'd always craved._

_ Hermione forced her stubborn legs to move, to melt into the safety of her mother's open arms. _

_ "Hermione, dear, hurry! Please, please!" Her mother begged, a look of comfort replaced by terror and fear._

_ Hermione pushed harder and harder, but it seemed to do even less good. The ground greedily sucked and pulled at her feet, dragging her far, far away from comfort and happiness. _

_ Despair crushed her as she realized._

_ No. Not again. Not another one of these dreams, please…_

_ Her mother reached out her hand. Hermione… please… before he comes…._

_ Hermione lunged forward, desperately dragging and clawing at the very ground beneath her to get to her mother. She needed her, she needed her so much. This time, Hermione would reach her. This time she would save her. This time she wouldn't fail. _

_ Hermione's eyes were jerked back to her mother's as they focused on something behind Hermione. She could tell from the way her mother's eyes turned deathly cold, as if love and happiness were merely a flicker of light long extinguished. She had seen this far too many times. She knew from the tense shoulders, the stance so tight it seemed as nothing could break it, except for him. He broke her every time._

_ No! No! WHY did she fail every time! Why did she have to see this… every single time…_

_ Complete and utter hopelessness took over her gaze. Disappointment shrouded her features. Spidery black arms with clinging fingers latched onto her, dragging her away from her daughter, back into the hideous world of reality. A deep male voice, screaming, coming from that awful darkness. Demanding. Insufferable. Vicious._

_ Hermione reached out once more in a desperate, final attempt. Please, please… I'm so close, not now, not yet…_

_ But her mother's figure was consumed in the sea of wretchedness before Hermione could reach her. _

_ Hermione collapsed onto the ground, wanting nothing more than to fall into her mother's arms of carefree oblivion and never come back. Tears of hate and despair poured from her weary eyes. She wanted to reach her, just once, to save her from the horrid fate that awaited her every time. Wanting to not have to see her taken like that, wanting to know that for the first time she hadn't failed her mother. But that disgusting, vile creature had won. It had taken her, just like last time._

_ And the time before that, and the time before that._

_ Dream after dream after wretched, hideous dream, he always took her._

Hermione was so caught up in her distress that she didn't feel herself being pulled back into the world of reality. Despite the fact that she wasn't in her dream world anymore, the tears continued to cascade in gentle waves down her cheeks, slanting sideways until they crashed into the pillow.

"I failed… I failed again…" She whispered, still enraptured by her dream world, unaware of the transfer back into reality.

She barely realized it when arms wrapped around her, holding her close, welcoming her in her despair. She accepted the gesture immediately, crying her eyes out to anyone who was willing to hold her. She was so grateful to be in someone's arms, to know that she had reached them, to know that she hadn't failed them too, whoever they were.

XXXXXXXX

Hermione awoke the next morning feeling a little groggy, but rested for the most part. The brave rays of the sun blasted through the window, blowing away any despair of the night. The dream was blissfully forgotten for the moment as she drifted in and out of consciousness, her weary mind fighting for more sleep while her active one anxious to attack the new day with vigor.

She stirred a little, adjusting her position. Her right arm was draped over something- probably a pillow. It was a little hard and lumpy, but the Weasleys couldn't exactly afford new pillows every time there was a need. Nonetheless, Hermione was grateful for something gentle and soft to hold onto. She held the pillow closer and rested her face against it. In return, the pillow shifted a little bit underneath her to accommodate for the change.

_…. Wait a minute._ Hermione's avid brain suddenly whirred back into action. _Pillows don't shift quite that much…_

Hermione's heart caught in her throat as she felt something coil snugly around her back.

… Pillows DEFINITELY didn't wrap their arms around their owners in return!

Hermione's eyes shot open like a bullet. She was still in her room, that much she was sure of, and she was still in her own bed, so there had been no kidnapping, but that didn't explain the suddenly possessed pillow. Her eyes traveled up the white form, only to rest upon a fluff of disheveled red hair attached to a face that was mere inches from hers.

Wha… What? How did this happen? _How_ did this _happen?_

Hermione's heart began to beat double-time. Her initial reaction was to scream and beat Fred off, reclaiming her territory as alpha resident, but she stopped herself as a better plan came to mind. She forced her pounding heart to quiet down as she logically assessed the situation. She would just simply sneak away, and approach the issue diplomatically at a later time. There was no use upsetting people, no need for the others to get the wrong impression… she would just quietly slip away, and Fred would never know.

Gently, ever so gently, she took Fred's arm that was wrapped around her and moved it to the side. Careful to not disturb him, she sat up, pushing the blankets aside while disturbing as little of Fred as possible. She began to half scoot, half slide towards the edge, her salvation beckoning from the doorway.

_Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up…_ she thought fervently, chanting it silently like a prayer.

She slid over a particularly rusty spring, the mattress groaning in protest underneath her like a burglary alarm. She winced, waiting for Fred to snap into consciousness and fire questions at her, but the barrage never came. She let out the breath that she had been holding, and continued her perilous journey.

"Now, now, you didn't think you'd be able to slip away without even saying 'good morning,' did you?" His voice broke her thoughts and concentration like an explosive.

Hermione jumped about a mile, an action that sparked a tiny smile on Fred's face. "Wh.. wha.. what are you doing in my room?" She answered, her voice a little squeaky from embarrassment.

"Sleeping. And, Hermione dear, this is my room. Mom's just been letting you sleep in it while I was away. I have to admit, having girls throw themselves into my bed isn't exactly-"

WHAM! Something hit him full in the face, knocking him off the bed.

SMACK! His body flew through the air, crashing fantastically to the floor, dust rising in little pillows around him.

"What did you say, Fred Weasley?" Hermione barked, so consumed by her sudden rage that she didn't notice a red head peek curiously into the war zone from the doorway.

Fred struggled valiantly against the clutches of the pillow that Hermione had thrown at him, fighting its fluffy wrath.

"Noffing, noffing!" Fred yelled desperately, the pillow snuffing out his breath and making his words slightly distorted.

"What? You want a muffin? What am I, your servant?" Hermione barked angrily at the struggling mass on the floor.

Another red head appeared at the door, anxious to see what the commotion was about. Soon frantic whispers broke out between them, both of them painfully curious as to why in the world Hermione and Fred were in the same room and appeared to have just woken up. It was preposterous to think that Hermione would do such a scandalous thing- but that made it all the more enjoyable to watch.

"No, no! I meant 'nothing!' Jeez, woman…" Fred had successfully retaliated against the pillow, putting it back in its place of submission- at the head of the bed. He pulled himself off of the dirty floor and back onto the bed with a loud squeak from the protesting mattress.

"You know, you didn't seem to mind being in my room so much last night." Fred pointed out, giving her one of the cheesiest grins she'd ever seen.

Hermione's face promptly turned a bright shade of red, and a collective gasp was heard from the doorway. The tap-tap-tap of pattering feet could be heard as a gossiper made their rounds around the house, beckoning others to join and watch the show before they missed out.

"Get out of here! All of you! It's not what you think it is!" Hermione yelled defensively. However, none of them listened to her, and Ginny soon arrived carrying a bag of popcorn which they all delved into, watching Hermione expectantly.

"Oh, isn't it, Hermione?" Fred asked, dropping his voice into a more seductive register, evoking the desired chorus of gasps from the doorway. He fed off of the energy of attention, and always milked every single moment for all it was worth.

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. "How DARE you?" She accused, her eyes ablaze with radiant anger.

"We had to tell them eventually, Hermione." Fred said, continuing to feed his enthralling show.

"Tell them… what?" Hermione asked, not really wanting to know the answer but curious nonetheless.

"About the baby, of course!" Fred answered with one of the most malicious gleams in his eye.

Words could not properly describe the level of shock and fury on Hermione's face.

"I know you wanted to wait until later, but honestly, it's better for them to know." Fred said in a disturbingly calm voice, relishing the sight of Hermione in such obvious discomfort.

Hermione saw the glint of victory in his eyes. He was the master of this game, manipulating her into losing. She narrowed her eyes, barely shaking her head. Her Gryffindor courage forced her to meet his challenge, and come out as the victor.

"Oh, it's better for them to know? Like I'm sure they know about Lavender, back in fifth year, and Fleur? You told them all about those, didn't you?" Hermione said with a smile so sinister it would have made the devil himself shudder.

"What… are you talking about?" Fred asked, his eyes widening as he realized that she wasn't going down without a fight.

Hermione's eyes widened in mock shock. "You mean, they still don't know? Fred, you had a child with your brother's girlfriend, don't they deserve to know?"

Now it was Fred's turn to be appalled. "WHAT are you talking about?" His eyes widening in fear as he realized that he was in for a pounding from his brothers later. The crowd at the doorway was raptured in this display, gasping and oohing and aahing at all the appropriate moments.

"At least I'm not an antisocial bookworm with no friends!"

Gasp!

"At least I don't make fun of innocent first-years!"

Shock!

"At least I didn't sell my own parent's identities to pay tuition!"

Oh no, he didn't…

"At least I didn't pry my grandmother's wedding ring off of her cold, lifeless finger to sell it for booze money!"

"At least I didn't sell my own brother's organs on eBay!"

"At least I don't pee in elevators!"

"…What?"

"What happened?"

"I do not pee in elevators!"

"So?"

"Ew, gross…" a quiet voice said from the doorway.

Hermione's attention snapped back to the crowd. "Can you seriously leave us alone?"

None of them budged. A sea of blue eyes and a couple of green ones parked permanently in the doorway peered back at her, all of them far too absorbed and terrified to make the first move. They remained rooted to the spot, anxiously watching to see what the crazy lady would do next.

Hermione leaped to her feet and slammed the door in their faces, hoping that they would go away. Unfortunately, her bold action only caused them all to put their ears up against the door, viciously whispering at each other and fighting for the best listening spots.

"I swear, there is no privacy in this house." Hermione said to herself.

"Hermione, I honestly can't believe you would say that. I'm getting a pounding from all my brothers later on! You lied to them and now I'm going to end up with a black eye on my beautiful face…"

"You told them I was pregnant with your child! You couldn't honestly expect me to just sit there and take it without retaliating!" Hermione argued.

"Yeah, okay, but seriously, when have I EVER peed in an elevator?" Fred asked, looking at her with an expression of skepticism.

"Well, when have I ever sold my brother's organs? Who even DOES that?" Hermione barked back.

Fred sighed. "Alright, alright, maybe I let it go a little too far."

"Maybe?" Hermione shook her head.

"Okay, okay, I did let it go too far." Fred's eyes met hers and another mischievous spark lit them up. "But did you see the looks on their faces?"

Against all her efforts to suppress it, a smile stretched across Hermione's face. "They were shocked, weren't they? Who would ever think that perfect Hermione Granger would do such a thing?"

They laughed loudly, both of them reveling in the look of shock on their audience's faces, forgetting their argument for the moment. They were completely oblivious to the fact that said audience was still gathered around the door, and, hearing only loud laughter coming from beyond a closed door, were getting entirely the wrong impression concerning what was going on beyond said door.

"Still… I do worry about what they'll say." Hermione said quietly. All the hungry gossipers at the door heard was an indiscernible phrase that they interpreted as a seductive whisper. This resulted in even more shocked gasps and whisperings full of endless possibilities of romantic encounters.

Fred shook his head. "Hermione, you care way too much about what people think. Come on, have some fun. You have to admit, it was great."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his comment. "But, Ron… I wonder how he'll react…"

Fred took her by the shoulders, turning her and forcing her to look at him. "Look, Hermione… it's your life. You're not obligated in any way to do what Ron wants you to. He had his chance, and he threw it away, bloody idiot that he is. If he's upset with you, then it's his problem. And, on top of that, the rumor's not even true. He'll realize that soon enough, and if he doesn't, then good riddance."

Hermione's eyes locked onto his, desperately clinging to their gaze. "You're right. You're absolutely right."

For once, she didn't flinch from his touch. For the first time she felt completely safe around his presence, even if he was so close. She wondered what it would feel like to have those arms close to her, holding her, every time she was afraid.

Suddenly Hermione snapped back into reality. Everything from last night flew back to her, the horrible dream, crying, having someone wrap their arms around her…

"Fred. Last night… um… was that you?" Hermione asked timidly.

Fred dropped his hands from her shoulders, his characteristic mischievous smirk returning. "Well, that depends, Hermione. What exactly was I doing?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She hated it when he teased her like this. Or maybe she loved it. She still didn't really know. "You know… last night…. When I had that dream."

Fred shook his head in mock confusion. "I dunno, Hermione, I still can't remember exactly…"

"You know, you…" Hermione looked down, her face adopting a lovely crimson glow. "I cried, and… you put your arms around me. You wiped away my tears and told me it was okay. It must have been you."

Fred gently lifted her chin until her slightly hesitant eyes met his bold, strong ones. He answered simply and softly, but still the words caused her heart to light like a flame. "It was me, Hermione. No one else."

Entranced by his gaze, almost as if in a daydream, Hermione reached up until the tips of her fingers met his. She didn't know what compelled her to do it, she just felt that, more than anything, she had to touch him. She wanted to be connected with him somehow, an urge that couldn't be denied. His eyes lit up in surprise, but they never dropped from her gaze. His hand accepted her shaking fingers, patiently waiting as she worked up the courage to wrap her fingers around the palm of his hand. Finally they moved, ever so softly, holding him as if he might break, until they linked with all his fingers, palm to palm, connected by an unbreakable link.

She could feel his pulse hammering through his fingers, matching each slamming beat with her own.

Their faces drew closer.

Closer…..

A hand running through her hair, a touch as soft and light as a spring breeze.

Closer….

Deathly silent at the door, the audience losing all ability to speak.

An arm gently drawing her near, demanding her presence, longing for her touch.

Closer…

Nothing else, just him and her.

Warmth. So much warmth.

And closer still…..

Suddenly, Hermione was snapped out of the reverie she had so foolishly fallen into.

Too close, she realized with terror. This was much, much too close.

She jerked back with such force that Fred looked not only startled, but hurt as well. She almost regretted her abrupt actions for a minute, but then remembered that this was for the best. This was the way things had to be.

"I'm sorry," She mumbled awkwardly. "I don't know what got into me." She stood up and walked briskly towards the door, fighting with all her reserves of emotional strength to restrain the stampede of tears boiling just behind her clouded eyes.

Hermione thrust open the door that she had so vehemently slammed, sending a sea of bodies clustered around said door sailing through the hallway. They quickly recovered from the shock, glaring accusingly back at Fred. A chorus of questions followed. "What have you done to her?" "What was that about Lavender?" "Why is Hermione crying?" "What's going on?" "Are you really seeing Hermione?"

Fred stood up in a fury, yelling, "Can't you go and mind your own business for once in your life?" He closed the door, suppressing with considerable effort the desire to slam it, and sat back down on the bed.

Fred wanted to chase after her. He wanted to capture her in his arms and never let her go. He wanted to slam his hand in front of that door closing in his face, the one shutting him out of her life. But he was shocked at her actions, not knowing or understanding what she wanted. And, more than being shocked, he was hurt. It was a cold rejection, he thought he'd finally gotten to her. But maybe all along he had been wrong.

He put his head in his hands.

Fred said quietly, the words dissolving into the air, "You're not supposed to say 'I'm sorry,' you're supposed to say, 'I love you…'"


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey guys! I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is that my summer class starts Friday, and we will be cramming an entire semester's worth of material into 15 days. That means considerably less time for fanfiction. However, I will do my best to keep up with this, and dropping reviews will help remind me to devote time to it. Good news is that this is my longest chapter yet by far, nearly twice as long as Chapter 3! Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 4

"Calm" and "complacent" were terms that usually described Hermione Granger to a fault. She was understanding, patient, and never lost her temper. Nothing fazed her, she had seen it all. Despite what violent words were thrown at her, she always managed to swallow them like a pill, forgetting them until their effects were truly digested. She always had her nerves under control. Always.

And yet, as the moon rose, the coming of the night found a distraught Hermione crying in Ginny's arms, and a confused Fred yelling in unbridled hate at the person he so often affectionately called his "other half."

It was funny how only one person could send her into emotional oblivion. But he did, every time.

How had fate found them so torn apart?

It had started with the dramatic events of the morning, but dinner had caused everything to go ballistic. It was a catastrophic episode that would make any reality show proud.

After her experience with Fred that morning, Hermione had spent the entire day locked up in Ginny's room. She couldn't go outside and face the rumors that she knew would assail her the moment she set foot outside her safe haven. However, she couldn't keep Ginny out, considering it was her own room that Hermione had momentarily taken shelter within. A few moments after the confusing events of the morning, Hermione heard a quiet ticking from the lock. Ginny came in shortly afterwards, proudly wielding the tiny bobby pin that had obliterated the bedroom lock.

Hermione groaned. "Ginny, not now…"

Ginny promptly closed and locked the door behind her. "Don't worry, I won't let anyone else in."

"They're all listening at the door anyways, aren't they?" Hermione asked.

Ginny looked rather guilty, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "Yeah…"

Hermione rolled over on Ginny's bed, facing the opposite end of the room.

Ginny bravely asked, "So, is it true?"

Hermione turned over, a look of indignation written all over her face. "Ginny, you know it's not true. How could it be?"

"Well, I don't know, Fred was so convincing, and you guys DID sleep together last night-"

"We most certainly did NOT sleep together!" Hermione corrected vehemently.

"Well, okay not like that, but you did sleep in his room with him, correct?" Ginny specified.

Hermione was sorely tempted to not answer that question, but she knew it would only lead to more rumors. "Yeah… but only because I didn't know that it was his room!"

"Mom never told you?" Ginny looked surprised.

"No." Hermione answered, crossing her arms and looking very pointedly at a fascinating crack in the floorboards.

"Ah…" Ginny said thoughtfully. "I thought it all sounded a little strange. You and Fred … he doesn't seem like your type at all."

Hermione looked up at her in confusion. "And who exactly is my type, Ginny?" She didn't mean to sound so rude, but she was fed up at the moment and didn't really want to talk to anybody.

Ginny strolled nonchalantly towards her. "Oh, I don't know. Someone strong, someone brave, someone smart…" She came to a stop just before reaching Hermione. "Someone like… Jack."

Hermione's eyes shot up and fear tore through her. "What?"

Ginny's face broke into a smile. "Jack. The boyfriend you thought you could hide from me." Ginny immediately plopped down beside Hermione, taking her hands in her own in a sisterly gesture. "It's true, isn't it? I knew it!"

"Yeah, it is." Hermione said uncertainly. How had Ginny found out? She'd been so careful, placing concealing spells on all the letters she sent him and everything.

Ginny positively gushed. "So what's he like? Is he gorgeous? I hope so, you know you don't deserve anything less. How long have you been going with him? How old is he? Is he a wizard too? Do I know him? Come on, Hermione, tell me all about him!"

Hermione looked away uncertainly. "I'd rather not, not right now. But I will later, Ginny, I promise." She met her curious eyes again and tried to force a smile.

"Okay, Hermione." Ginny rubbed her back, trying to comfort her from the distress that she thought was because of her brother. "Don't worry about Fred, he'll come around. Sometimes he just feeds off of attention and has to make a show out of everything. He'll leave you alone, I'll have a talk with him."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Ginny."

She needed to be away from Fred. She couldn't let these feelings grow, she couldn't let things get even more complicated than they already were.

Ginny seemed to understand that Hermione wanted to be alone, and so she stood up and left, heading towards Fred's room to give him a rather violent lecture. She got in line outside his door behind George, who was waiting for his turn to tear into Fred after Ron was done. They heard muffled yells of "Not Lavender! Not Lavender!" coming from the closed doorway and the thumps of blunt objects being thrown against walls and body parts colliding with floors.

Hermione sighed and sat back on her bed. So her secret with Jack was out. But how? How could Ginny have known? It was unbelievable how observant that girl was. She couldn't keep anything from her, no matter how hard she tried. She would have to tell Jack later, their little secret was revealed. She knew he wouldn't be happy to hear that, but it was better than him finding out later and getting angry.

As much as Hermione enjoyed staying in her room and not interacting with anyone, it left too much opportunity for her mind to wander. She thought back to her terrifying dream the night before, the memories of her distressed mother coming back to her in droves now that her mind was empty of the thoughts of the day. She couldn't get that picture out of her mind, the pain and the terror etched so clearly on her mother's face continued to haunt her even now. Would she ever be free of these memories?

Hermione stood up with a determined huff. She strode over to her wand, contemplating for a moment the brashness of her actions. She wanted to see her mother. She had to see her mother. She would know what to do in a situation like this. The entire Fred ordeal would seem like nothing compared to what her mother had been through. Hermione started to say the apparition spell before a single thought slammed her to a halt.

What if he was home?

Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn't home often, but what if he was? Nothing would be accomplished. Her wand shook in the hand that had been so stable before, her resolve wavering on the cliff of indecision. She couldn't go back to that place if she knew that he was there, waiting for her with that sadistic grin of his. Ready to feed her lies, telling her that he loved her one moment and then screaming at her the next. Merlin, she didn't want to face that again. After years of enduring it, did she have the strength to face him?

Finally, Hermione plucked her courage from the darkness of her heart. She needed to talk to her mother more than she was afraid of that man. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves that were on the brink of disaster. Before she could take the time to rethink it and doubt herself again, she spun in place and disappeared with a pop.

The familiar beige walls and maroon furniture that met her gaze did nothing to quell the anxiety inside of her. The living room was exactly as she remembered, down to the empty coffee cups left on the side table next to the armchair. The books on the shelf were just as dusty as they had always been. The thick, heavy curtains shrouding the windows prevented any light from coming inside, and also kept them out of the eye of watchful neighbors. Her heart beat just a tad faster, her eyes quickly scanning the room to see who was currently at the house. The silence was almost odd, such a foreign experience in her own house.

"Mom?" She called bravely. She heard rustling from the kitchen, and moments later she heard a dish fall and shatter on the tile floor. The sudden break in the silence caused Hermione to jump as her heart leaped forward a few paces. She scurried into the kitchen to see her mother staring in shock at her, the remnants of the broken plate left completely ignored on the floor.

Her mother's eyes went through every emotion possible: confusion, love, disappointment, shock. They were still just as brown and loving as Hermione remembered. Despite Hermione's absence from her family's life, some things would never change. She finally found the comfort she was seeking, there in those eyes that had been absent for so long.

"Mom!" Hermione cried as she ran towards the woman. She threw her arms around her, holding her like it was the last time. "Mom, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to leave you all alone here. I just… I'm so caught up in the wizarding world and there's so much for me to learn about them. I didn't mean for things to get so far. I'm so sorry."

Her mother chuckled to herself. "Sweetie, I understand. It's okay. You're young, you should live your own life and not be burdened by us."

Hermione pulled away to look her in the eyes. "But I want to help you, too. Where is…. Where is dad?" She asked hesitantly.

Her mother answered quickly, "Away. He'll be gone for a week."

Hermione's frame relaxed slightly. "Okay. We'll have a little time to talk, then."

Her mother smiled. "Sweetie, as much as I love having you here, what brings you here after six years of being away?"

Hermione sighed. "It's a long, long story."

Her mother smiled, the sight of her happy did Hermione's heart a lot of good. "Well, I've got some coffee brewing. Why don't we sit in the family room and talk about it? God knows it's been too long since we've been able to talk as a family."

Hermione smiled. "That sounds great, mom. Really." She turned and went into the family room, sinking into the blue armchair that used to be her favorite as a child. She would always sit and read her father's thick tomes, the lamp on the side table lighting her pages until deep into the night. She had fallen asleep in that chair on numerous occasions, unable to stop reading yet unable to stay awake as well. Comfort continued to fall on her, comfort that she had looked for so long.

Shortly her mother joined her in the sitting room. She handed Hermione a cup of steaming hot coffee, holding it with both hands to keep it steady. Hermione could tell that her surprise visit left her a bit on edge, but the brave woman was doing her best to make her feel welcome after their long time apart.

"Cream with just a touch of sugar, right honey?" Her mom smiled.

"Yes! I can't believe you remember." Hermione took the cup from her hands, the aroma of coffee already calming her down.

"Well, it's not exactly easy to forget a ten year old declaring with utmost authority that she was ready to start drinking coffee. And then giving a dissertation on why she should be allowed to do so." Her mother smiled knowingly at her daughter.

Hermione grinned at the memory. Her parent's surprised faces were still clear in her mind. "I remember dad got out the recorder because he wanted to show his coworkers how brilliant his daughter was, and how far she would go."

Hermione's mother nodded sadly. Those memories were far away now, almost beyond her reach. The strains of modern life blocked them out, obscuring them into the darkest night.

"So, sweetie, what brings you here? Is everything okay?" Hermione's mother asked.

Hermione sipped her coffee as she contemplated where to start. There was so much to catch up on, so much that she hadn't mentioned before. Six years of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Six years of fighting evil. Six years of prophecies and chosen ones and Boys who lived… where to start? There was no way to cut corners, no other way to start except with the very beginning.

One trait that Hermione's mother was famous for was patience, something that she noticed that day more than she ever had before. Hermione spilled out her story, making up for years and years of separation. All through the tale that spanned a couple of hours, her mother never made a move to interrupt her or stop her. She patiently listened, expressing surprise or concern where appropriate and asking questions if she was confused about something. She was an avid listener, and loved her family more than anything. Hermione regretted that she had spent so much time away, and had missed out on growing up with this incredible woman by her side every step of the way.

"Well, that's my story. And that's where I am now." Hermione finished.

Hermione's mother shook her head in astonishment. "What a woman you have grown up to be. I am so incredibly proud of you, and yet so concerned for you as well. This Voldemort person sounds like dangerous business. Are you sure you're okay? You know you're more than welcome to come home at any time."

Hermione adamantly shook her head. "No, mom. I think we both know that I can't come back."

"And so brave, too. You really are like your father."

"Don't say that, mom."

"Sorry. I'm sorry, really. It's hard sometimes. You just look so much like him-"

"Stop." Hermione cut her off.

"Right. My apologies. So you are wondering what to do with this Fred character, yes?" Her mother immediately changed the subject, sensing Hermione's discomfort.

"Yes. I just… I don't know what I want. Sometimes I love it when he jokes around, and sometimes he just gets on my last nerve because he's so immature! I don't know." Hermione shook her head for emphasis.

Hermione's mother sat back on the couch, putting her nearly empty coffee cup down on the glass coffee table in between them. She chose her words carefully, knowing how much they meant to her daughter for her to come after all this time.

"Honey, you need someone who will make you happy. You have seen too much of sorrow and hurt, and part of that is my fault for not being stronger. Be with someone who can make you smile, every single day. Be with someone who can chase the clouds away and get your mind off of your own troubles, even if by doing so he ends up making you furious. Anyone who can accomplish such a feat is worth keeping around."

Hermione pursed her lips and thought, her brow furrowing slightly. Her mother was right, she needed some lighthearted pranks in her life. All too often being Harry Potter's best friend led to danger and angst, leaving no room to just sit back and laugh.

"But what about this Jack fellow?" Her mother interrupted her thoughts. "Isn't he your boyfriend now?"

"He is, but…" Hermione wrung her hands in her lap. How could she tell her about Jack? She would be so disappointed, and so hurt. But she had to. She had to tell someone, she was going to explode if she kept doing this to herself.

"Mom, he's exactly like dad. And I can't get away."

Concern replaced her mother's look of curiosity. "Honey, you have to get away. That road will take you nowhere, only to despair." She stood up after hours of sitting down, striding over to her daughter. She took her hands in her own, squeezing them tightly, trying to convey how intensely she felt. "You don't deserve him. You have to break it off, do you understand?"

"Oh, like you broke it off?" Hermione fired back.

Her mother recoiled in shock. It was something she struggled with for years, the fact that she never had the strength to leave her father. It was a low blow and Hermione knew it, but she couldn't take advice given from someone who couldn't even take their own advice.

Her mother recovered from Hermione's sudden outburst, understanding that she was bitter and hurt. She was determined to make up for it, and be the best mother that she could be now that Hermione was giving her a chance again.

"Honey. My mistakes do not have to be your mistakes, and I pray that they won't be. Despite what you've been told your entire life by that man, you deserve better. You deserve life. You deserve happiness, laughter, and joy. You will not find any of that with him, and the longer you stay, the harder it is to leave."

Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears, conflict evident in her every move. She leaned towards her mother, needing her support, needing her comfort. Her voice cracked on the brink of a breakdown. "I can't, mom! I can't!"

"Why, sweetie? You are so much braver than I ever was. You can do this, what I did not have the strength to do."

"I can't, because… because… he is-"

Abruptly the front door opened, slamming back just as abruptly. Footsteps could be heard thundering through the kitchen. Hermione and her mother shared one final meaningful look, an unsaid communication between them.

_Get out of here._

Hermione stood and apparated with a pop, the pain in her mother's eyes tearing her heart just as forcefully as the pull of apparition.

Hermione landed back in her room in the Burrow abruptly, the memory of her mother's fear still evident in her mind. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves for what seemed like the millionth time that night. She hated to leave her like that, so vulnerable and alone. But it was either that or face him, and her mother had chosen to stay for twenty years. There was nothing more Hermione could do.

Around eight o'clock at night, Hermione's stomach growled viciously. In all the adventure of the day, she had forgotten to eat. Most of the Weasley family would be done eating at that point, and she hoped that she'd be able to get some food and return to her haven before anyone noticed that she'd left. She had a lot of thinking to do, and only wanted to get back to her sanctuary without anyone asking questions. She fervently hoped that the entire trip would be without incidents or encounters of any sort.

Hermione gathered her courage and silently opened the door. She peeked both ways, checking for people before bravely commencing down the hallways. She kept close to the wall, trying to stay away from the creaks that would sound like a siren if she were to step on them. Her fingers skimmed the rough, wooden surface of the walls, her touch nothing more than a gentle caress against its worn surface. Finally, she reached the kitchen.

She peered from around the corner, her eyes scanning the premises for any sign of life. None could be found, and she couldn't hear anyone. She wondered for a fleeting moment where everyone was, but then decided that she should merely be grateful that, wherever they were, she had the kitchen to herself. Thankfully, for the moment, she was alone.

She relaxed a little bit and entered the kitchen. There was no need for suspicion or sneaking around anymore. If anyone was even close to her vicinity, she'd be able to hear them. There was almost never a quiet moment in the Weasley house, and the silence that reigned now declared assuredly that no one was at home.

Where had they gone? Hermione pondered while scanning the refrigerator for any signs of dinner. Her eyes rested upon a plate full of chicken and mashed potatoes. She snatched it greedily from its frozen lair and whispered a warming spell, a grin of anticipation splitting her face.

Her stomach growled loudly as she sat down at the table. She obeyed its demands, biting violently into an innocent spoon of mashed potatoes. Ah, food was glorious. It was such a stress reliever, too. She immediately felt better even after only eating a couple of bites.

Unfortunately, the good feeling she got from eating didn't last very long.

She heard the sliding glass door open from behind her as a shock of loud Weasley voices filled the kitchen. Hermione's back jerked into a straightened, surprised stance. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before they all noticed that she was there, finally forced out of hiding.

She closed her eyes, drinking in the last moment of tranquility before it was shattered.

"Hermione!"

"You're out!"

"Are you okay?"

"We beat up Fred real good! See his black eye?"

"You aren't really with him, are you?"

"So what's this I hear about Jack?"

Hermione had managed to avoid all questions up until that point.

She whirled around to face the owner of the vicious words. Her eyes searched their faces, looking for the guilty party. Her scrutinizing gaze passed from blue eyes to green and back to blue, but she didn't have to look far. The guilty person stepped forward, bravely looking her square in the eye.

"Ginny told us about him."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

It was Fred, sporting a rather obnoxious and colorful black eye.

Ginny sort of hid herself behind Harry, but Hermione didn't notice. She had eyes only for the man in front of her.

"She did, did she? So what did she say?" Hermione asked, trying to quell the screaming, panicking beast inside of her and cover it with complacency. She'd always managed before, why should this time be any different?

"She said that you were dating him. That you guys have been together for some time." Fred told her. His voice sounded conversational, but her eyes accused her. She knew that he was remembering last night, when she had told him that she didn't have a boyfriend. She'd lied to him, and he didn't look too happy about it.

"Yes, Jack and I are quite happy together." Hermione spat. She didn't need this, not now. She just wanted to go back to Ginny's room.

"So last night was a lie, huh?" Fred asked.

The group behind him gasped and tried futilely to cover up their shameful interest.

"So they DID do it! I knew it!" A voice accused that sounded like Ron's.

Hermione was ready to pounce on the owner of the source, but Fred spoke before she could do anything.

"What else was a lie, Hermione? Have you been lying about everything?" Fred asked.

Hermione's eyes narrowed again. She immediately realized where he was going with this. He wouldn't, he wouldn't dare! Surely he learned his lesson…

"Were you lying about the baby, too?"

Merlin, would she ever get a break?

Her blood boiled with the fury of a thousand volcanoes. Her fist clenched, suffocating the poor fork that was in her clutches. This was so much to deal with all at once. First of all she'd had the dream, and on top of that these crazy feelings, and on top of that the episode with Fred this morning… it was just too much. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to let out some steam.

Hermione stood up violently, sending the unfortunate chair that she was sitting in crashing to the ground. "You know what, Fred Weasley? It's no business of yours whether or not I'm dating anyone. And I am sick and tired of you telling these lies! Nothing happened last night and you know it. Do you get some kind of sick enjoyment out of torturing me like this?"

Hermione stepped closer to him, her eyes ablaze with fury. Her hair whipped back and forth with every expressive shake of her head. It was like something tribal and primitive had been unleashed inside of her, some warrior goddess hungry for blood. Fred stepped backward, wanting to be as far away from the violent banshee as possible.

"Is it humanly possible for you to even act mature, or is this the way you'll always be? Huh? I thought maybe you had something in you. Something human, something kind. But I was wrong. I was horribly, terribly wrong."

Even as she spoke the hurtful words, she knew that she didn't mean them. She knew that Fred was only teasing, that he wouldn't say these things if he thought they would truly harm Hermione. But she wasn't thinking clearly, driven on by the flame of her stress. And so the words continued to pour like poison, lashing out at him like a sectumsempra. She, like Fred, found herself fueled by the rapt attention of several onlookers. She wanted to humiliate him, she wanted him to feel as embarrassed as she had that morning. And she would do it by whatever means possible.

"Leave me alone, Fred Weasley. Don't ever talk to me again, you vile, disgusting, horrible monster!" She accused, a shaking finger of judgment waving at him like a gavel.

With that, Hermione stormed back up to Ginny's room, her plate of food abandoned and forgotten, with a lost and confused Fred standing in the wreckage.

XXXXXXX

"Fred. Give it a rest. She doesn't like you, she doesn't want to talk to you. Just count your losses and move on." George argued. He was surprised that Fred had still not understood that Hermione didn't want to be involved with anyone, but the boy was almost as stubborn and dense as George himself.

Fred paced the room, trying to work out the knots of frustration that had been building ever since that morning. He'd been wearing down the same patch of floor for the past few hours. Every third step from the door there was a loud creak, something that didn't go unnoticed by poor Harry, who was on the floor below and was valiantly trying to fall asleep.

"No, George. I can't. I can't just forget about her. I've told you before, I'm getting this girl if it's the last thing I do." Fred answered mechanically, looking intently at his feet as if he was trying to figure out a particularly stubborn arithmancy problem.

George sighed. "Fred. She's just a girl. You've never been this upset about a girl giving you the cold shoulder before."

Fred turned on the spot and looked at him. The floor protested with a couple of particularly feisty squeaks. "But, George, did you see the look on her face? She really hated me. I pushed her over the edge. Me, Fred Weasley, made Hermione Granger lose her temper."

George chuckled. "Funny, a few weeks ago that'd be something you would brag about."

Fred massaged his forehead with his right hand while his left fisted at his side. Trying to work this out was giving him a severe headache, and his feet were beginning to protest from being walked on for so long. Still, he plowed on, attacking the problem with exhausted vigor every time he hit a road block.

"I just… I can't leave things the way they are. If she was any other girl, whatever, but she's not. She's Hermione. She's our little brother's best friend. I can't just let this fester and grow until she hates the sight of me."

"She already hates the sight of you." George pointed out.

Fred smiled at him, his eyes shining with mirth. "That's probably bad news for you too, huh?"

George cracked a grin at his joke. "I'll be sure to be careful whenever I'm around her, then."

Fred looked back towards the ground and resumed his pacing, the weight of the situation falling back upon his shoulders, the lightness of the moment long forgotten.

"But seriously, George, what should I do?" Fred asked.

"Forget about her already! Just let her be angry and get over it. Things'll be fine."

"No they won't!"

"Yes they will! Just leave her alone and let her work things out herself. Trust me, don't bother her." George argued, getting rather passionate.

"If I let her think things over she'll realize that she hates me. I have to talk to her, George." Fred argued just as viciously.

"No. Trust me, Fred. She'll just take it like she takes everything else, with calm and complacency. She'll be fine, she always is. She takes all of Ron's crap, why can't she take yours too?" George argued, leaning forward for added emphasis.

"Because she shouldn't have to deal with my crap!" Fred yelled, his voice finally reaching an outstanding decibel. He stopped pacing, taking a minute to calm the throbbing drum that his heartbeat had escalated into.

George was shocked at the sudden outburst. He physically drew back, as if he had been shoved by the invisible force that was Fred Weasley. His eyes widened in shock, and then a hint of hurt crept into the ocean blue that was usually so carefree. He quickly brushed it aside, attributing it to the fact that Fred was upset and wasn't thinking clearly. He was getting a little agitated with all the ranting and raving, but he would let it go for now.

"Then go and talk to her if you want to so bad. Seriously, I don't know how much more of your ramblings I can take." George said jokingly, his voice mirthful but his eyes dark.

Fred stopped suddenly, as if he had stumbled upon a grand treasure. "You're right! You're absolutely right." He stomped on the floor for emphasis, something that didn't go unnoticed by poor Harry below.

"I'm gonna go talk to her right now." Fred declared proudly. He turned on the spot, forcing another protested creak from the floor below him. A loud thump from the floor beneath them caused a grin to break out on both of the twin's faces.

"I think Harry wants you to go too, mate." George joked.

Fred smiled, filled with renewed spirit, ready to tame the beast that he had unleashed.

XXXXXXXX

"Who does he think he IS?" Hermione blubbered viciously through her tears.

Ginny whispered words of comfort while rubbing her back. "Shh, shh, it's okay. We all know you're not like that, Hermione. He's just a stupid boy, don't worry about him."

The rhythmic, circular motions Ginny made on Hermione's back helped to calm the fragile, shaking creature that she had become. Never before had Ginny seen her so broken, never before had Hermione Granger lost herself like this. And it was all because of Fred… she shook her head in awe and astonishment at the effect her brother had on Hermione. The sobs, the tears, the shaking… this wasn't like her at all.

"Hermione, it's only Fred. We all know he's not serious, we all know he's just kidding. Come on, no one thinks any less of you." Ginny said comfortingly.

"B-b-but, he's probably… m-mad at me…" Hermione stumbled through her words.

Ginny's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're worried about him being mad at you? Hermione, you should hate his guts!"

"I just… I just want things to be… back to normal." Hermione said, slightly gaining control of herself.

"They will be, Hermione. Don't worry. Fred Weasley can't stay mad at anyone for too long." Ginny said with a shake of her head.

"And Jack…" Hermione said quietly, darkness shrouding her eyes.

The two words were enough to pique Ginny's interest. She inclined her head towards Hermione's downtrodden one, obvious curiosity burning in her eyes. "Jack? What about Jack?"

Hermione turned to her suddenly, as if she had just been caught passing notes in class. "Oh, nothing, nothing. I just… miss him, that's all." She recovered lamely.

Ginny looked her over strangely, but attributed her odd behavior to the emotional trauma the poor girl was going through. "Right. Well, why don't you write him?"

Hermione put on a brave smile. "Yes, I think I'll do that." She took a deep breath to compose her nerves, trying to sort her thoughts out within her raging mind. Ginny stood and left the room, resigned to give Hermione the privacy she would need to write her note. It was killing her to not read over her shoulder and get all the juicy details that Hermione had been hiding about their relationship, but she knew that it could wait. Hermione was much too distraught right now to talk about him.

The door closed behind Ginny's shock of red hair, and Hermione was alone again. She suddenly longed for Ginny's company again, as long as someone was here she could put off writing this note. As long as someone else was with her, she could ignore the feelings inside of her that were trying so desperately to be heard.

She stood up and got some parchment, ready to assault the task before her. She started slowly, struggling to find the right words to say. However, after she got her foundation, the rest of the story poured out like a river released from a dam. She told him everything- the fight the night that Fred got home, the vicious insults traded like drugs on a black market, and the incident at dinner. It felt good getting everything down on paper, sorting through her emotions with the therapeutic sound of a quill scratching parchment. She felt so much better, she almost forgot that she was writing to Jack.

She sealed the letter, and sent it off with Errol. The poor owl fluttered pathetically out of her window, stumbling a bit at some turbulence, but valiantly continuing his flight nonetheless. Hermione wondered if Errol would even manage to deliver the letter. Part of her wished he wouldn't.

A knock at the door rang throughout the room like a signal from above, bringing her back to reality. She stood up from her lair at the desk and drug her feet towards the door. She fiddled with the lock a bit, then cracked open the door an inch or two to see who it was.

Red hair that used to be so vibrant, blue eyes filled with an unsaid apology.

Him.

He bravely brought his eyes up to meet hers, drowning in the well of forgiveness he had been so fervently searching for.

"I'm sorry." Fred blurted out. Without giving her a chance to respond, he plowed on. "I shouldn't have said it, I know you're worried about what other people think of you, even though I'm sure they all just think I'm the idiot by now. I shouldn't have said it, I don't… I don't know how things got so far out of hand. But I am sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"I don't know, Fred…" Hermione looked uncertainly at the floor, a strand of curly hair shadowing her dark, uncertain eyes. She opened the door a few more inches, letting him see her but still not letting him in.

Fred gently touched her chin with his fingertips, raising it until her eyes were forced to join with his much like he had that morning. When he spoke, his voice was so weak, so despondent, that Hermione's heart couldn't help but break all over again.

"Hermione. Please."

His eyes searched hers for any sort of response, desperate for some kind of redemption. She felt her resolve slipping away, the grudge that she had clung to so desperately sliding out of her grasp. All her fiery emotions were calmed under his cool blue gaze, like a passionate fire doused by freezing waters.

_Just forgive him, you know you want to!_ Hermione's emotional side argued.

_No, no! He must pay. Make the sleazy boy pay_! Her more passionate, vengeful side argued. Normally this was the side that lost, but it always fought with vigor each time it got the chance.

_ But look at him… look at how cute he is, with his hair all pretty-like, falling into his eyes. How can you say no to that face? _Hermione's angel gazed dreamily at the boy.

_ The boy MUST pay. Grrr_. The devil bared her teeth.

_ Remember how comforted he made you feel? He held you while you cried. Come on, give the boy a chance! Let him in! You never give anyone a chance!_

_ CORPORAL PUNISHMENT! …On second thought, I think Mrs. Weasley put that spatula back in the cabinet, I'm sure it would do nicely…_

Hermione's evil, conniving mind was considering all of the possible ways to assassinate a Weasley with a spatula when the object of her thoughts broke her out of her violent reverie.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Fred asked.

Hermione snapped back into attention like a whip. "Yes! Yes, I'm fine, sorry. Just zoned out for a minute."

"Well, zone back in, I'm trying to apologize here. And it was a good apology, too! I can't believe you missed it, I don't think I can repeat everything…" Fred scratched his head while trying to recapture all the words that had left him.

"No, no, I heard you. And… I accept your apology."

Hermione's inner angel leaped for joy while her devil sulked in a dark corner.

Fred's eyes lit up, and a grin started to stretch across his face. "You know what, Hermione? Just to show my appreciation, I'll make it up to you."

Now it was Hermione's turn to smile. "Oh really, Fred Weasley? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Fred thought for a moment, and finally captured his moment of eureka. "I know! I'll take you out tomorrow, get you out of this house and away from all this drama."

"Out? Out where?" Hermione asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"You'll see. Just be ready to go by 10." Fred said, a sly smirk on his face.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then." Hermione said, a baffled yet excited expression taking over her face.

"See you." Fred said as he turned from her room.

Alone in her room, left to her thoughts, Hermione marveled at how quickly her gloomy night had turned around. That night when she lay down to sleep, a smile played across her lips as a red headed Weasley strolled throughout her dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello readers! This chapter some of the more serious and dramatic aspects of the story start to come into play. Don't say I didn't warn you! Drop a review to let me know what you think, every review is greatly appreciated.

Chapter 5

Hermione Granger was a problem solver. Numbers, words, thoughts, abstract concepts… she could do it all. Anything could be simplified into an answer, any answer could be interpreted into a real life application. She conquered anything that was thrown at her- whether that was Potions assignments, fighting trolls, or quelling the emotional hurricanes of Ron.

However, she had finally met a problem that wasn't solved so easily.

She had NO IDEA what to wear.

What did one wear when one went "out?" What was this "out?" What did it mean? Did it imply some sort of more fancy clothes, or just casual? This term baffled Hermione, and left her struggling to find something suitable to wear the next morning with a mere ten minutes left to get ready.

Hermione frantically tore through Ginny's closet after coming up with nothing in her own reserves. Clothes, clothes… confounded articles, such a pain… she wondered how one witch managed to own so many articles of clothing. It was astonishing, considering the Weasleys couldn't exactly afford to buy all their children new sets of clothes every year.

Finally she settled on a plain red sweater and jeans with tennis shoes. It was nice enough, and she knew that if she went for something fancier it would just seem like overkill. There was no specification for dress code. It wasn't like this was a date, anyway.

At least, she didn't think so.

A sharp rapping at the door made her heart jump just a little in her chest. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, and made her way over to the door. Opening it slowly so as to not wake Ginny (although there were a pathetic few people in the world who could accomplish such a feat as to wake a sleeping Weasley), she couldn't help but smile at the blue eyes that met her. They had become familiar to her over the past few days, whether she was yelling at them or using them as a target for her next projectile. Through the series of crazy events they had become a place of comfort.

She glanced at his attire and mentally sighed with relief when she realized that he didn't particularly dress up either. He wore his usual plain white t-shirt and jeans. And, Merlin, despite the plainness of his outfit, he still looked so good.

_HA! I KNEW you liked him!_ A little creature with horns appeared in Hermione's mind, brandishing a trident and gleaming haughtily at her newfound discovery.

Hermione shook her head a little too violently, tossing the little devil around a bit until it was quiet again.

Fred tilted his head in slight amusement at her sudden head twitch. "You okay, Hermione?"

Hermione recovered quickly. "Yeah! I'm fine. Just trying to wake up, you know, face the day with vigor and all that…"

"Well, that's good I guess, you'll need all the vigor you can get for what I've got planned." Fred observed casually.

Hermione's head tilted to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Fred grinned one of his knowledgeable, mischievous smiles. It was the one that caused Hermione's stomach to flop in unnatural directions, as if she had just eaten radioactive sludge. Despite however awkward and unusual it was, there was a part of it that Hermione liked. It was different, foreign, and thrilling. Something about it left her wanting more, wanting to know what was behind that smile.

"You'll see." He stated simply. "Come with me."

He turned and led her down the silent hallway. Most of the Weasleys were still asleep, so Fred and Hermione were able to make their escape without having to dodge an assault of questions. They slipped out the kitchen and into the cool morning, the fresh dew still sparkling on the waking landscape outside. They stepped outside of the anti-apparition wards placed around the Burrow, finally coming to a stop at the crest of a hill.

"We'll apparate from here," Fred said, turning to face her.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked.

"You'll see. We'll use side-along, it'll be a surprise." Fred replied, that maniacal gleam entering his eye again. She knew he was up to another one of his mysterious schemes again. Only this time, instead of scolding him for breaking some sort of rule, she was excited to be a part of it with him.

Fred offered her his arm, saying, "Don't let go."

Her gaze softened a little, and she tentatively slipped her right arm through his. Knowing that she had to hold on tight, she brought her left arm around as well, holding his arm in her embrace. He looked into her eyes only for a moment, then the moment was gone, but it was enough for them.

Hermione felt the familiar and yet horribly awkward wrench that came with apparating. Suddenly everything in her stomach seemed to inside out itself, and her head felt like it could implode from the extreme pressure. She clutched to Fred's arm- her anchor to safety.

Soon the awful feeling of apparition was gone, however, and her feet were firmly planted on solid earth once again. She loosened her grip from Fred's arm, and gazed around. The sun shone brilliantly, even though it was still pretty early for such enthusiastic sunlight. It was like the energy and excitement for the day ahead were just too much to be contained, and so morning gloom was abandoned for full-out afternoon glory. They were surrounded by rolling hills, like an ocean of untouched terrain just waiting to show them the true radiance of nature. Full, lush trees stretched towards the heavens, their branches coming to an end near the crisp, cloudless blue sky. Hermione took in the view around her, turning around and around in a slightly awkward circle, soaking it all in.

Fred shook his head at her wonder. "You really spent too much time in the city, you know that?"

Hermione turned around to face him. "I know, I know. But I guess it makes moments like this all the more beautiful." She said wistfully.

"Yeah, yeah, now come on, it's time for your surprise." Fred said impatiently, taking her by the wrist and pulling her along behind him.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, her insatiable curiosity getting the best of her.

Fred turned to her, mischief gleaming in his blue eyes like the sunlight on a deep pond. "My dearest Hermione, this surprise would lose all its splendor and charm if I were to tell you now. You'll just have to wait and see."

Hermione huffed impatiently.

When Hermione felt her patience had really grown thin and this ridiculous episode was nothing more than a prank, she saw their destination. Amidst the ocean of green grass, in the middle of a secluded valley sat a bright red barn that glowed like a flaming beacon in the night. Hermione timidly stepped forward, her eyes combing this new development, her heart leaping as warm memories came back to her.

"I remember that Ron mentioned a few years ago that you loved horseback riding as a kid, so I pulled a few strings." Fred shrugged. His hands were in his pockets and he slouched against a tree, trying to look indifferent. However much he tried to appear calm and cool, the bright genuine smile that stretched across his face betrayed his mellow exterior. Secretly, he was just as excited as she was.

Her eyes burned into his, the happiness and anticipation flaming within was infectious. She looked almost as if she could fly into his arms any moment, singing his praises and thanking him profusely with overly dramatic kisses. However, Fred knew better than to hope for something like that from someone like Hermione Granger. Even though he didn't get mauled with emotional feminine affection, the gratefulness that he saw in her eyes was more than enough reward for him. He knew that the magnetic gaze that Hermione gave him was something that he would remember for a long, long time.

"Thank you, Fred. I… I don't know what to say." Hermione said, her voice slightly shaken up.

Fred smirked. "How about 'I promise I won't be mad when you beat me, oh Fred the Fast.'"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You have got to be kidding me."

Fred shook his head. "Just because I am a wizard doesn't mean that I have no experience with these beasties. Watch your back, Hermione- or rather, your front. That's where I'll be- far ahead of you and shrinking by the minute."

Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the blatantly clear challenge. She quickly regained her composure, however, and responded like a true Gryffindor.

"Fred Weasley, you will sorely regret the day you decided to challenge the legendary Hermione Granger." She replied with a smirk that mirrored his, trying to appear tall and intimidating.

They sped off towards the barn, the promise of their competition giving them extra adrenaline. Before Hermione had reached the bottom of the valley the familiar scent of horses had already reached her. It smelled awful to most people, but to her, it was a place of comfort. It was the closest to home she had ever been, a sanctuary when life was just too harsh to deal with. The world was so much simpler when one was riding on the back of a horse, putting miles and miles between themselves and their problems. That was the refuge she sought back then, and she returned to it now.

"Slowpoke!" Fred taunted when she reached the barn a few minutes after he did.

"I… I'm not as… in shape as you…" Hermione forced out between pants. Running wasn't easy for her, even if it was downhill. Even through all her near death experiences throughout the years, she still wasn't as in shape as she'd like to be.

"Come on, come on, let's go inside!" Fred said excitedly. He was like a little boy in a candy store. He pulled on her hand like a child pulling its mother, desperate to let her into a part of his world. Depending on her, trusting her not to drop him when she saw the inside.

The inside of the barn was dark compared to the fully illuminated nature beyond. Stall after stall lined the walls, each one housing a different horse. Hermione reached out to pet a few of them, the long forgotten feel of their soft fur beneath her hand sending memories rushing back to her like a drug. Immediately she felt content, all the problems and fights of the past few days forgotten.

"Oi! Margarete!" Fred called out to a blonde woman standing in front of a chestnut horse. Her head snapped up at the sudden sound, her antic green eyes dancing with joy when they landed upon the newcomers. She walked over to them, her wooden cowboy boots echoing loudly with every footfall. The horses' heads turned instinctively towards her when they heard her come, they knew who their master was. She reached Fred, a giant smile plastered all over her face.

"Fred! Glad to see you. It's been far too long." The woman named Margarete said.

"Yes, yes, indeed it has. Margarete, this is Hermione. She's the girl I told you about." Fred gestured towards the bushy-haired bookworm.

Before Hermione had time to contemplate exactly what had been said about her, Margarete had entangled her in an all-encompassing, crushing hug. After a few seconds, Margarete surrendered her from her clutches. "I've heard so much about you! I can't tell you how glad I am to finally meet you. You wouldn't believe how Fred goes on and on about this gorgeous-"

Fred chose this moment to be afflicted by a rather violent barrage of coughing, effectively silencing anything that Margarete could have said. However, Hermione wasn't known as the brightest witch of her age for nothing, and she was able to discern what Margarete was about to say. A slight smile tugged at her lips, and she felt her heart lift just a little at the words that had never been said.

"Hermione, this is Margarete. She's been a friend of my mum's for an eternity. They went to Hogwarts together and everything. Ever since graduation, she's been like an aunt to me." Fred continued the introduction.

Hermione smiled at the friendly woman and nodded her acknowledgement.

"You went to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Margarete laughed. "Yes, it's rather uncommon for a graduate of Hogwarts to end up working with horses among muggles. However, despite the wonderful experiences I had at that school, nothing will ever compare to the feeling I get when I ride a horse. Nothing can touch that, not ever."

Margarete shook her head, coming away from her slight reverie."So, I hear you two want to take a little ride today?"

"That's the plan." Fred leaned in and whispered, "Make sure I get a fast horse. I can't be losing to a girl, now, can I?"

Margarete laughed, the sound like a symphony. "Fred Weasley, if I recall correctly, I beat you fair and square in a race not so long ago. Any dignity you've had has long been lost." She then turned to Hermione and added lightheartedly, "Show him that we females know how to compete, too!"

Hermione laughed, warming up to the strange yet outgoing woman rather quickly.

Margarete led them among the endless stalls of horses, introducing them to the mares and explaining quirks and random facts about the animals. Hermione was drawn to many of them, but there was one that she was sure was the one for her to ride. It was a completely black horse, except for a white star on its rump. Its eyes glistened with a fire that could not be quenched by the most frigid water, its spirit was one that would never be tamed. Hermione recognized at once, this horse would be the only one that could match her own desperate flame.

Her eyes lit up. "This one, I want to ride this one."

Margarete looked a little uncertain. "This one's a spitfire, you have to watch out for him."

"That's exactly why I chose him." Hermione said simply.

Margarete shrugged. "Your funeral. His name's 'Achilles'."

"Achilles…" Hermione said thoughtfully, her intellectual mind devouring every possible literary analysis she could conceive.

The horse shook its head, greeting its new friend with a rather slobbery kiss. Hermione giggled and raised her hand to shield her face from an assault of horse germs. Fred smiled as he saw Hermione beginning to loosen up, the tension from tomorrow felt like a distant dream. Sometimes it was so easy to get caught up in the drama of that household, and this outing would be good for both of them. This was the Hermione that he loved, the one that was carefree and happy.

"Keep in mind, honey, they don't call him 'Achilles' for nothing!" Margarete yelled over her shoulder as she left to fetch the saddle and bridle for the horse. Her cowboy boots thunked loudly on the barn floor, all the horses' heads swiveled in her direction at her passing.

Hermione and Fred turned towards each other, Achilles' head in between them. Hermione stroked his mane with her left hand, letting her eyes wander over the beautiful gelding. Another smile crept onto her face before it became a full-fledged grin.

Fred laughed, "What is it?"

Hermione replied, "It's just been so long… I'm so excited about riding again. How'd you know, Fred? I really owe you one for this."

Fred answered, "Ah, but if you remember, this whole horse riding escapade was because I had done some atrocity to make you mad, and so _I_ was the one who had to make it up to _you_. Therefore, we are now even."

Hermione joked, "Right, like I don't know you're going to bring this up in the future when I'm thinking of getting you a really nice Christmas present, hmm?"

Fred looked away uneasily, "Now, Hermione, don't make me sound like I have ulterior motives, come on… this is supposed to be a happy occasion!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm just kidding, Fred. I am happy. Really, thank you. I won't forget this."

Fred blushed an infamous Weasley red and rubbed the back of his neck. He shuffled his feet enough to shame even the most restless horse in that stable, muttering a few "it's nothing's" and "no big deal's" to a beaming Hermione.

"Am I interrupting something?" Margarete asked as she shoveled her way through the doe-eyed couple, saddle and bridle in tow. She deftly opened the door to Achilles' stall and slipped inside as Fred and Hermione awkwardly tried to recover from her remark.

"Nothing!" Fred offered, his mind unable to come up with a more creative excuse.

Margarete fiddled with the straps on the saddle for a moment while turning around to eye Fred suspiciously. "Sure, Fred. Wait until your mother hears about this, flirting with an innocent girl-"

"No, don't tell mother! Anything but that." Fred exclaimed in a sudden outburst.

Margarete grinned. "Pay attention, Hermione. I know exactly how to get him to do what I want. You could learn some tips, eh?" She winked at the sexual reference, and Hermione blushed ferociously.

Before Hermione had adequate time to fully be embarrassed, however, Margarete indicated that she was done saddling the horse. "Hop aboard, Hermione!"

Hermione wasted no time in mounting the horse. Her body was unaccustomed to the unfamiliar height and position, but her memory kicked in and nostalgia began to smooth over her in waves. She smiled as flashbacks of her childhood came to her, so many memories with her and her mother and-

She snapped herself out of it as she led the horse out of the stall. Fred was beginning to mount his own horse at the end of the barn, a chestnut mare that looked relatively agreeable. Hermione tried to prod her own horse to the end where her companions were, but Achilles would have none of that. He grunted and snorted, turning his head to look at her as if she was some sort of unwanted parasite.

Hermione had seen this look before. The look of a stubborn horse that didn't want to do what its master said. She sighed exasperatedly as she kicked with her heels, urging him forward. He only shook his stark black mane ferociously, pawing the ground in an attempt to get her to stop. Hermione finally threw up her arms in frustration.

"Margarete, Achilles doesn't seem to want to go any-WHAAAA!" The last fraction of her sentence turned into a wide-eyed, ear-piercing screech as Achilles reared up and took off in a bolt of energy. Margarete and Fred had just enough time to get out of their way as the two bolted out of the barn, Hermione's screams growing fainter and fainter as she grew further away.

"Margarete, did you see that? We have to go help her!" Fred said, waving his arms in a panic.

Margarete grinned mischievously. "He won't run far. He's got fire, but not endurance. You can catch up to her in no time. And besides…" She turned to look him in the eye, "aren't you supposed to be impressing her? What better way to impress her than by saving her from the rabid beast, eh?"

Fred shook his head at the sheer absurdity of the situation, but his worry for Hermione's safety drove him to brush it off and simply do as he was told. "I don't know if you're absolutely crazy or absolutely brilliant. Either way, I know you're right."

He kicked the back of his horse and took off after her, his own horse chasing after Achilles, seeing the challenge clearly. It had been a while since he had ridden a horse as well, but soon memories kicked in and the beast became more familiar to him. Green pastures and trees blazed by him as he tried to keep Hermione in his line of sight. He knew that if his horse slowed his pace at all, he wouldn't be able to find her again. He had no idea how he was going to help her when he reached her, but he figured he'd worry about that when the time came.

Finally Achilles came to a screeching halt in a green meadow. Hermione still clung for dear life, although the creature continued bucking and rearing. Fred pulled his horse to a stop and immediately dismounted, not even bothering to tie up his own horse before he went to calm Achilles down. Achilles' roaring hooves came dangerously close to him, but Fred grabbed the reins and placated the beast until finally he calmed to a standing position. Fred stroked his forehead, his own heart pounding from the entire experience but trying not to show any of his own fear.

"Margarete wasn't kidding when she said he was a spitfire, eh, Hermione?" Fred grinned as he looked up at her.

Immediately when he saw her the grin was wiped from his face. She looked terrified, however, with good reason. She had just been through another near death experience, after all. She shook her head to get rid of the tension, and when she spoke her voice was only a little uncertain. "I'm fine. I'm okay. Yeah, I'm okay."

"Do you want some help getting down?" Fred offered.

"No, I can do it. I'm just a little shaken up, that's all." Hermione began to dismount, but found she had overestimated her ability to recover from Achilles' unexpected trip. Her legs didn't have the strength that she thought they did, and just as she swung her leg over to dismount, the knee that held all her weight suddenly gave out. Her heart caught in her throat as she began to fall, bracing herself to hit the ground.

And, just like that, for the second time in the past couple of days she found herself wrapped in Fred Weasley's arms instead of sprawled on the ground in a mess.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly.

Fred shrugged. "It's what I'm here for, apparently. Do you think you can stand?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Not yet. This… this is fine. For now." She said a little uncertainly. A small blush crept into her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold onto him. He gazed at her, the blush that was becoming more and more prominent on her features revealing to him exactly what she was thinking. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, his heart pounding as adrenaline continued to course through him like a flame.

"You okay? Your face is all red." He teased.

"Well, it's your fault it's red!" Hermione spat back.

"It is, now?"

Hermione shook her head angrily. "No.. it's…. it's not that! It's not what you're thinking! It's because I'm just… I'm… uh…"

"I know, I know. It's because you're getting lost in my endless blue eyes and are falling farther and farther for my irresistible charm, right?" Fred teased with a lopsided grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, doofus. I happen to have a boyfriend, you know."

Fred's eyes suddenly turned serious, an unusual trait in him. "Right. Jack. You two are happy together, right? He's the one you like."

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well… I wouldn't say I like him, exactly, I just… I don't know." She suddenly squirmed in his arms, struggling until he put her down. She walked a few paces away, suddenly distancing herself.

"You don't know? What do you mean?" Fred asked as he tied up his horse to a nearby tree.

Hermione was still turned away from him, not wanting to face him. She hugged her arms close to herself, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable. She had found the courage to tell her mother, but could she find the courage to tell Fred? Could she be that open with someone who probably wouldn't understand?

Yes, she could. Her mother was absolutely right. She deserved someone who would laugh and make her smile. She needed to talk to him. Not Ron, not Harry, him and him alone. Would he understand? She could only hope that he would. It was a big risk, but she had kept this secret for long enough. She took a deep breath and steadied her nerves.

"Fred, can I tell you something?" She turned around to look him straight in the eye, needing the eye contact. Needing to know that he was real.

Fred was tying up Achilles when Hermione asked the seemingly loaded question. He finished tying up the beast and then started walking towards her, wondering what in the world this was all about.

"And you have to promise… promise not to make fun of me or joke about it, or anything because I've never told anyone and I'm really nervous and frankly I don't know if I can and I don't think this is a good idea just because I don't trust you like I trust Harry and Ron but I feel like you're the only one brave enough to do anything about it. So please… please listen." Hermione spat out in a jumble of confused feelings, her wild and untamed emotions flying out of her mouth in a tangled web of a sentence.

"Hermione, sweetie, you can tell me anything." Fred answered gently.

Hermione tried to ignore the ridiculous fluttering in her stomach when he called her "sweetie," but found that her efforts were in vain. God, it was the greatest feeling in the world, almost enough to outshine the dismal darkness that was looming on the horizon of her confession. Jack had never given her that feeling. No man ever had.

"Let's… let's find somewhere to go sit." Hermione stuttered suddenly. She needed time, time to think this through and allow herself to back out if she wanted. Just this simple confession would give so much of herself to someone, was she ready for that level of trust after what she'd been through? Could she ever truly trust someone again?

Hermione found a secluded spot by a river not far from where the horses were tied. A tree grew on the bank, its roots morphed, twisting into the soil and finally to the river. Hermione chose this spot, under the safety of the tree. She sat down and propped her back against the solid wooden bark, and felt more than saw Fred do the same. She saw him pick up a twig and start to play with it out of the corner of her eye, twirling it between his fingers almost like it was his wand. She turned back to face the river, knowing that she couldn't do this if she looked straight at him. She watched the swirling waters, and somehow found strength in the chaos of that storm. She took a deep breath.

"I need to break up with Jack." Hermione started, unable to simply come out and say what she wanted to.

"So do it. What's holding you back?" Fred asked. He was looking at her, she could feel the intensity of his gaze, but still she couldn't meet it. She didn't know if she could bear to face the disappointment she might see there.

"I… I need your help." She said uncertainly.

His eyes glanced away from her, she could tell that he was confused. It was a big confession for her, and he didn't understand where she was going with all of this. What was waiting where those threads of confusion met?

"Sure. Anything." Fred promised.

Hermione felt herself smile a tad. "Anything…" she repeated quietly to herself, finding strength in the word. "The problem is, I… I can't break up with him."

"Why not?" Fred asked, his patience stretching a tad. He wanted to know what was bothering her, he hated dancing around the issue like this. But he also knew that it was taking a lot for her to say this, especially if she hadn't even told Harry and Ron.

"Because then… he'll be angry. I don't want him to be angry." Hermione struggled to capture her thoughts, struggled to capture the bravery that she knew was inside of her. The resolve that seemed so strong moments before suddenly wavered. What was she doing? He'd kill her if he knew that she was here, telling him about this. She was putting Fred in danger by this confession, she was putting them all in danger. That wasn't what she wanted. She wouldn't tell him, she couldn't. She wouldn't put that kind of pressure on him, she wouldn't put him through that.

Hermione was torn from her thoughts when Fred boldly took her hand in his. He surrounded her small hand with his warmth, making her feel safe and secure, protected. Something she had hungered for so long. She wanted this, she wanted it every day. But the security was so fragile, so easily broken. Would he try to save her when he knew what she was?

"Don't you understand? He'll be angry! Don't you know what that means?" Hermione plead, trying to get her message across to him without having to form the words. Saying them made it that much more true, that much more painful. Tears started to well in her eyes as her frustrated emotions came spilling out.

"Sweetie, no, I don't understand. Please, just tell me!" Fred plead desperately. He didn't know what was happening, he had never seen this side of Hermione before. He panicked, not knowing what to do but wanting so desperately to help her. All he wanted to do was catch her before she hit the ground and shattered into a million pieces.

"If I tell you, he'll be angry with you, and I don't want to put you through that but I have to tell someone and I just don't know!" Her voice cracked with emotion, her sanity on the brink. Doubts began to assail her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. He wouldn't understand. He wouldn't know what to do, he'd be a target, he'd be afraid.

Or worse, he'd leave.

"Hermione, listen to me!" Fred said, surprisingly clear and firm. "Anything you want to tell me, you can tell me. Don't worry about him, he can be taken care of. If you think it'll hurt me, then don't worry about it. I'd gladly go through a sectumsempra just to see you smile. So tell me, I'll listen."

He stroked her face with his free hand, wiping away the tears that were now coursing down her face. He had no idea what was about to hit him, the words that were seemingly so insignificant that could change his life forever.

"He hits me, Fred." She choked out the confession.

All the desire to know her confession suddenly left him as the gravity of the situation hit him. He didn't want to know anymore. God, what did she think he could do? Why did she tell him? He wasn't a hero, he couldn't get her out of this. But now he had to. He swore he would. He wanted to, he wanted to see her smile again so desperately but how could he possibly do anything to help? He wasn't strong, he wasn't brave. He couldn't do this.

"Hermione… oh, Merlin…" Fred squeaked out the words with what little breath the blow had left him with. He looked deep into her eyes, disbelief etched over his features, and the fear set into her heart. She couldn't gauge his reaction, couldn't understand the tangled web of emotions behind those eyes. She could only pray that he wouldn't leave her, now that he knew the truth. He was all she had now.

"You have to get out of there. You have to." Fred said uncertainly, not knowing what else to say.

"But he'll kill me if I do. He knows where I am, he knows how to find me… it will only make things worse. I'm stuck. I can't leave, I can't stay, I can't do anything! He owns me, Fred!" Hermione struggled to make him understand, make him realize what she was going through.

"Hermione, you're the bravest woman I know. You have to get out of there, you can't just cower from him forever! You have to take a stand."

"Take a stand? Are you kidding me? Did you not hear anything I just said, Fred Weasley? I cannot do this! I can't get away from him unless I kill him, because he will come after me." Hermione argued fervently, her confused emotions giving her intensely passionate anger. He didn't understand, he wasn't even trying to understand! This was not the way it was supposed to happen.

"Why did you tell me, Hermione? Why not Harry or Ron? They're so much braver than I am, and so much more serious and better with these type things. What do you think I can do? If you won't leave him, then how can I help you?" Fred argued, frustrated and confused.

"You said you would do anything. You said you would do whatever you could to help." Hermione said in disbelief as the truth hit her hard. She had made a mistake. This whole thing had been a huge mistake. She should have listened to her doubts, at least they never let her down like he did.

"Merlin, Hermione, I didn't think it was this serious!"

"Then what the hell did you think? I told you I had never told Harry or Ron or anyone, did you think this was a simple matter? I should have known better than to believe in a simple prankster like you. I should have known…" Hermione tore her hands from his grip and started to walk away, furious with herself but more furious with him.

"Hermione, wait-" Fred stood up to follow her.

"No, Fred. You said that you would do anything to protect me, you said you would do everything you could.

"You lied."

Hermione turned on the spot, and before Fred realized what was happening, she had disappeared with a loud pop.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter is a little more lighthearted, to provide some releif from the previous chapter's drama. I'd love to know what you all think, and also hear some predictions about where you think the story will go. Hope you enjoy!

A Christmas Wish ch. 6

Ginny sat on the edge of her bed, kicking her fuzzy slippers and contemplating what to do with herself. Hermione had left early that morning, claiming that she had shopping to do. Ginny fumed silently inside, angry that Hermione had left her out of a potential shopping extravaganza. Growing up with six brothers didn't exactly leave much room for girly outings, and so Ginny missed out on many shopping trips that she wished she could have taken.

Ginny's thoughts were shattered into a million pieces when she heard three very loud popping noises downstairs. Her heart jumped before she realized what it was. It was the unmistakable pop of apparition, but that didn't make sense. The only people who could apparate into the Burrow were the Weasleys, Hermione, Harry, and anyone related to them. George, Fred, Ron, herself, and her parents were all at the house at the moment, so who-

Ginny leaped off of her bed and ran towards the door, skidding to a stop in the hallway and thundering down the stairs. She heard Ron doing the same from his room above hers. She grabbed the handrail and whirled around the corner, to be greeted by three familiar faces that her heart had been aching to see.

"Charlie! Bill!" She ran forward and glomped them both in a hug. "What are you doing here?"

Charlie had grown his hair out and pulled it back into a ponytail, and Bill had grown another few inches despite the ridiculous height he had already obtained.

"Mom called us all and said that Fred was home. When we knew that the prodigal American-bound boy had finally come home to us, we figured it was time for a good old-fashioned family reunion. So here we are!" Charlie replied with his characteristic grin. It was one that stretched all the way from ear to ear seemingly, one that Ginny couldn't help but smile as well when she saw it.

"I'm so glad you're home!" Ginny exclaimed excitedly, pulling the two in for another embrace.

"It's good to be back, Gin," Bill affectionately used Ginny's childhood nickname.

An awkward cough brought them out of their reunion. Ginny, Bill, and Charlie swiveled their heads from the conglomeration of Weasley love to gaze at the offender, their eyes resting on a slightly uncomfortable looking Percy. The three pulled away from each other, turning to greet the true prodigal son of the family.

"Um, mom called me too. She said… I should come. So, here I am." Percy shuffled his feet awkwardly and stuffed his hands into his slightly worn pants. His hair was still immaculately combed and groomed, he was the one Weasley who never truly had a penchant for getting into trouble. He'd always held a soft spot for rules and regulations, and felt so awkward about coming home to his estranged family because there was no rule stating that he would be welcome. He liked well-defined guidelines, and there was no guideline for the situation before him now. How would they receive him? Would they even take him back?

Ginny was the first one to smile. "Percy, you belong here." She walked over to him and wrapped him in an embrace, Percy's iron hard resolve crumbling a little in the wake of her astounding welcome.

Bill and Charlie looked at each other in shock, neither one of them used to seeing so much affection from Ginny. She was always the one who was cutting up or getting into trouble as well, the change she had undergone while they were away was evident. She was no longer the little troublemaker they left behind.

"Are those my boys I hear? Have they come home at last?" Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the kitchen. Padded footsteps could be heard coming from the kitchen, and Mrs. Weasley came around the corner to greet her sons. Her slippers scraped the floor in her hurry to embrace them, and soon Bill and Charlie found themselves wrapped up in the second Weasley hug in the past few minutes.

"Bill, Charlie! And… and Percy!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, her face faltering just a tad at the last name. She was happy to see her son home, but was he happy to be here? It had been so long, she felt like she almost didn't even know him anymore. However, all doubt left her when her eyes found his, and she found nothing but apologies and remorse clear in their depths. She strode over to Percy, and wrapped him in an equally fierce hug.

"Percy. Welcome home." She said in a classic Mrs. Weasley moment of pure affection. Percy wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feeling of finally belonging again. He knew it would take a while to gain his family's trust back, and he didn't know how his father would handle his sudden appearance, but it meant the world to him that his family was so welcoming. He had put them through more than any family should ever have to go through, and yet they still took him in with open arms. He felt a tear develop in the corner of his eye, but held in back in a show of manly defiance. He couldn't let them see him cry, not yet.

"Well, you all look absolutely famished! Charlie, do they even feed you in Romania? I've got a pumpkin pie cooking, it's almost ready!"

Charlie threw his head back and smiled, exclaiming, "Oh, it is so good to be back!"

Bill patted him on the back. "We should come back more often if we knew a pumpkin pie would be waiting for us every time! How about tomorrow, mum?"

Mrs. Weasley playfully slapped Bill on the arm. "Oh, Bill, you know it's only for special occasions! If you boys decide to come home more often, though, I'll just see what I can whip up."

Bill and Charlie sprinted into the kitchen, nearly bowling over poor Mrs. Weasley in their haste to get their food. Ginny led a slightly apprehensive Percy into the kitchen, encouraging him and trying to make him feel more comfortable. He looked around the room several times, taking in the home that he used to know.

"Aw, mom, where's the whipped cream?" Charlie whined.

"Maybe Fred and Hermione used it all up, you know they slept together." Ginny said suggestively.

"Ginevra! Don't go and suggest things like that! I don't know where you children get these ideas, honestly…" Mrs. Weasley chastised as she scurried off to prepare the boys' rooms.

Ginny knew, however, that being chastised from her mother was totally worth the looks of shock and astonishment that were plastered over her three brother's faces.

Charlie grabbed his piece of pumpkin pie and pulled a chair up to the table. His eyes bore into hers as he did, and then pointed violently at the chair in front of him while saying, "Sit. Spill. Now."

Ginny grinned, the malicious grin of one who has a particularly juicy piece of information and knows that other people are dying to hear it. Bill leaned against the counter while picking at his pie. He tried to act indifferent, but Ginny could tell by the slight tense in his stance that he was dying to know as well. Percy peered meekly from behind the open refrigerator door, slightly slowing his search for the fabled pumpkin pie to learn all about this new development.

"Well, I _could_ tell you… I suppose…" Ginny teased.

"Geez, you must have grown up with thieves to be this way. Alright, girl, what do you want?" Charlie said around halfway chewed pieces of pie.

Ginny smiled maliciously, seeing that Charlie had caught on. "That's the last piece of pie you've got there. I've been craving a bit myself…"

Percy sighed from the refrigerator, realizing that his quest for pie had come to a screeching halt. He settled on a pack of chocolate explosion pudding.

"Well, I could give you a third, I suppose." Charlie tested the waters.

"I want half. No less." Ginny demanded.

"Slavedriver." Charlie accused as he split his piece down the middle.

Ginny smiled, her victory complete. She swiped Charlie's fork from him and began devouring the pie, enjoying every last scavenged bite.

"So, this is how it happened. Hermione's been staying here over the summer like usual, and since Fred's been gone she's been sleeping in his room. Thing is, no one told her it was Fred's. So when Fred came home, he went into his bed thinking it was still waiting for him, and wakes up to find Hermione! Oh, what a day that was. You missed quite a row. There was some rumor about a baby and peeing in elevators and selling other people's organs for booze money… you really missed it."

Charlie threw down his napkin in frustration. "Man, I could have gotten that much information from Fred! And he wouldn't have demanded half of my pie."

"Admit it, dude. She got you good." Bill observed from his safe position in the corner of the kitchen, carefully guarding the remains of his pumpkin pie.

"Ah, but there's more to it than just that." Ginny said to herself.

"And that would be?" Charlie asked impatiently.

"Ah, you know, I just can't seem to remember…" Ginny faked forgetfulness.

"You wouldn't." Charlie said.

"I bet I could remember it for the rest of that pie!" Ginny said, suddenly cheerfully. "I seem to remember… someone else in the picture…" she said, impersonating a fortune teller.

"No, no more pie." Charlie said adamantly.

"Oops, there it goes. Don't remember at all anymore." Ginny ate a particularly satisfying bite of pumpkin pie, smiling into Charlie's incredulous face.

"Just give her the pie, man." Bill said.

"I don't see you sacrificing your pie for the cause." Charlie turned to face his brother.

Bill merely shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe cause I'm smarter than that, eh?"

By the time Charlie turned back around to face Ginny, the remains of his piece of pie were gone. His eyes widened in shock and he threw up his hands in frustration. "Did you eat all of that? You couldn't have!"

"Oh, I can, and I did." Ginny said around a particularly large bite of pumpkin pie.

Charlie shook his head. "I don't believe this. You're more vicious with your food than the dragons are!"

Ginny merely smiled innocently. "So, since you have given adequate payment, I suppose I can tell you about Hermione's boyfriend. Apparently they've been dating for a while. His name's Jack, I'm not really sure about him." Her brows furrowed a little.

"Why not?" Percy asked, piping up for the first time since the whole ordeal began.

"I… don't know. Just the way Hermione acts when we bring him up."

"What did you say his name was?" Percy asked, suddenly interested.

Ginny's eyes locked onto his, knowing that this situation was ringing a bell with him. "Jack. I didn't catch a last name. Why do you ask?"

Percy brought his hand to his temple, burning holes in the ground with the intensity of his gaze. "That sounds so familiar. There was a case that sounded something like this, but I just can't seem to remember…"

Bill interrupted, "Seriously? All you have to go on is his name, which is a terribly common one. There are probably millions of Jacks in the world, most of which have been convicted for something. I mean, can we really pin something on him without a last name?"

Percy shook his head. "You're right, you're right. Just a hunch."

The other boys seemed to agree with Bill, but Ginny wasn't so convinced. Perhaps this Jack person warranted a bit of investigating. After the pumpkin pie. Ohh, it was good pie, and it tasted even sweeter to know that she had sleazed every bit of it from Charlie. Heh heh heh.

Suddenly a loud thundering noise could be heard as Ron, George, and Fred tumbled into a less than majestic pile of bodily appendages at the bottom of the stairs. From said pile Ron emerged. George and Fred valiantly tried to figure out which body part belonged to which twin, but remained in the clutches of the pile. Ron's eyes opened in shock at the sight before him- all three of the brothers he hadn't seen in years, standing in the kitchen acting like they did it every day.

"Um, a little help over here?" George plead. He and Fred had become a tangled web due to the malice of the stairs and the curse of gravity.

"What are you all doing here?" Ron asked incredulously, the shock of the situation arguing with his excitement and happinesss. "I haven't seen any of you in forever!"

"Mom called us." Charlie said slightly sullenly. He was still missing the pumpkin pie that was never his.

"You know, George, if it weren't for physics, we'd be completely unstoppable!" Fred piped up, completely oblivious to the reunion before him.

"Right you are, Fred. Right you are. Perhaps we should look into that. There's a spell for everything nowadays…" George continued, lost in thought.

A grin finally broke out on Ron's face. "This is great! We're all together again!"

"Except Harry and Hermione. Where is Harry, by the way?" Ginny asked.

Just then a slightly disheveled Harry emerged at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes and looking around in slight confusion that accompanies all those who just awoke. "What does a bloke have to do to get some rest in this place?" He asked to no one in particular.

"Sorry, mate. It's what you get for having the room below ours." Fred confessed from the bottom of the Fred/George conglomeration.

Harry started down the stairs, and Ginny's eyes widened as she realized the impending disaster. "Harry, no, watch where you're going-"

BAM! Harry spectacularly tripped over the mound of Fred and George, soared through the air, eyes opening in sudden shock and realization. His quidditch-honed reflexes snapped awake quickly enough for him to land on his hands and knees, instead of face-planting into the ground. He shook his head, trying to clear out what remaining sleepy cobwebs were still clouding his judgment, and glanced around the room only to find what he had been fearing the most- that everyone had seen his disastrous entrance.

Ginny was the first to react. "Harry, are you okay?" She stood up and quickly pushed back her chair, the wooden legs scraping the tile rather loudly. She scurried over to him, kneeling by his side in moments. The other boys, of course, were too busy laughing at the Boy Who Lived in his rare moment of embarrassment.

"I'm fine, Gin. Really. Just a little… sleepy…" Harry offered weakly as Ginny helped him stand.

"Hey, Ginny, how come you didn't come to our rescue?" George looked deeply offended. "We are clearly in just as much distress as he is!"

Bill laughed maliciously. "It's because Ginny hasn't been crushing on you since she was twelve. Right, Gin?"

Ginny turned to Bill with a slight blush on her face, but this was drowned out by the glare in her eyes. "Stop talking about things you know nothing about, Bill. That was a long time ago."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Right, right. We all know you've still got it bad."

Ginny fired back, "Yes, and we also know that my dating record makes your dating record look as sparse as Ron's research paper for Potions."

"Hey-" Ron looked a little put out.

"What?" Bill looked flat out angry.

"If Hermione were here, Merlin knows how furious she'd be. She pretty much wrote that paper for him…" Fred said offhandedly.

"Speaking of Hermione, Fred we have a couple of questions we'd like to ask you…" Charlie said, turning a viciously curious gaze toward the incapacitated twin.

"Oh, ehh, uh, hey, Charlie, is it true that you got a Blackberry?" Fred said uneasily, quickly changing the subject to something he knew that Charlie wouldn't be able to resist talking about.

Much as Fred hoped, Charlie immediately brightened up. "Oh, you mean this?" He said while expertly pulling the device out of his pocket. "Muggles use it to communicate. I have a couple of muggle clients, they wanted some dragons for their circus. I figured instead of tormenting them by forcing them to learn how to communicate using owls, I'd just get myself a Blackberry. I know that dad'll have a field day when he sees this."

Ron crept closer to it, eyeing it suspiciously. "Funny, it doesn't look like a piece of fruit…"

Harry sighed. "It's a phone, Ron. Muggles use them to communicate."

Fred and George exchanged knowing grins as more ideas for new products crept into their minds.

"And you know what else Muggles have?" Charlie asked with a mischievous grin.

"What's that, Charlie?" Ginny asked slightly impatiently. She was not amused by the electronic fruit piece that enthralled the others.

"Rock band." He said with a grin.

Despite even Ginny's best efforts not to, even she was enthralled by the game. The entire Weasley clan except for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were wrapped around the TV that Charlie had charmed over from his apartment and used his own magic to power. Ron was playing guitar rather badly, Ginny was belting out something resembling vocal parts, and Percy was learning rather quickly how to play the drums. He was actually the most adept at the game, even more than Charlie, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by the Rock Band veteran.

"I need a cigarette," Charlie said to himself as he selected one and lit it. Percy gloated at the obvious discomfort his victory was giving Charlie.

Fred sat on the counter in the kitchen, watching the group belt out a rock ballad with a few angry squawks from the game whenever they missed a note. He ventured around on Charlie's blackberry, enthralled by the ways Muggles could make up for the lack of magic in their lives. He scrolled through Charlie's most recently visited websites, and an idea struck him as he hit a particular page.

"Say, Ronniekins, what would you say you look for in a relationship?" Fred asked mischievously.

Ron answered, "What? What are you talking about? Don't distract me, you'll make me miss a note."

"I'm just curious. Can't a guy ask his brother a simple question?" Fred answered.

Bill and George exchanged a knowing look. Ron was still too young to predict Fred's pranks, and therefore was all too susceptible to sneak attack pranks. A slight grin stretched across their faces as they realized what was happening.

"Well, uh, I guess someone who's smart, a little different, confident… some good looks wouldn't hurt, either." Ron offered.

"Come on, more details! I have to get five hundred characters at least…" Fred muttered.

"How about someone with a good sense of humor? Someone who values family, who understands what it's like to have parents with odd quirks. I mean, I dunno."

Charlie could hear the nearly indistinguishable tapping of his blackberry as Fred entered the information. "Now, this is for everyone else. How would you describe Ron?"

"Dense."

"Zoned out."

"Slow."

"I guess he's pretty kind hearted at times…"

"Loyal. Like a dog."

"Decent quidditch player."

"Why are y'all so interested in knowing my traits all of a sudden?" Ron shot a suspicious glance over his shoulder as Fred furiously typed on the Blackberry.

"Ronald Weasley if you miss one more note I swear I will-" Percy started to say.

"Whoa, whoa, we're all family here… chill, chill." Bill calmed the atmosphere down a bit as George went to Fred's side to see what new plot he had concocted.

"Now, just a few more basics… contact information…" Fred muttered as a grin stretched across George's face.

A few moments passed and then Charlie finally asked, "What are you doing, Fred?"

Fred grinned. "Oh, nothing. Just creating a profile for our dear Ronniekins on ."

"WHAT? No one is supposed to know that's on my Blackberry! Give it back, give it back!" Charlie exclaimed as he stood up and walked over to Fred. Fred guarded the Blackberry from Charlie's clutches.

"No, not yet! Not until it's done finding him a match! You know you're curious about what it's going to come up with, Charlie, don't lie." Fred argued. Charlie subsided in submission.

"Wait, what are y'all doing? That's not a dating site, is it? You wouldn't do that to me, right Fred?" Ron asked as realization dawned on him.

Bill chuckled slightly to himself as the band started to lose. Ginny was barely paying any attention to what she was doing, wrapped up in the drama unfolding all around her. Percy was valiantly still plodding through the song, carrying the other two failing members.

"I have to see, Fred stop it!" Ron left his post as guitar player.

"Ronald Weasley, you get back over here and finish this song before we fail!"

"Ron has a girlfriend? Does he Fred, does he, does he?"

"I most certainly do NOT have a girlfriend!"

"Give me back my Blackberry! It's mine! Stop holding me back, George!"

"Hey, do you think you could find ME a girl on there, Fred? What an incredible machine…"

"I have a match!" Fred exclaimed triumphantly.

Immediately all the commotion stopped. Even Percy, who was forced to a halt due to the failure of his band, turned to see Fred's revelation. Charlie froze in the clutches of George. Ginny almost dropped her microphone.

"Well? Who is it?" Ron asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Ron went over to Fred and peeked over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the profile picture before him. "Man, she's hott, whoever she is." He noted appreciatively.

Fred read like an advertisement, "Looking for a man who's intelligent enough to hold a conversation but isn't so smart that he can't learn anything. Loyalty is very important, also a good family background. Likes playing with toads and experimenting with newts. Appreciates a good daydream. Ronniekins, the name of your beautiful bachelorette is…"

The entire room waited with bated breath, the only movement was frantic eye contact to see what everyone else was doing and to try and gauge everyone's reactions.

Fred burst into uproarious laughter.

Everyone continued to glance at each other, Ron was trying desperately to see over Fred's shoulder but George would allow none of that.

"Well, who is it, Fred?" Ginny asked impatiently.

"Oh, this is too good…" Fred said to himself as he was attacked with another fit of laughter, he clenched his sides to still a cramp.

"Just spit it out, Fred, so we can get back to playing Rock Band!" Percy said impatiently.

"Alright, alright…" Fred looked each of them in the eyes, enjoying the obvious tension. He let it build for just a few more moments, waiting for the perfect time…

"Luna Lovegood!"

Raucous laughter wasn't quite descriptive enough to adequately portray the array of noise that barraged the Burrow. Ron was absolutely beside himself, Bill and George were laughing along with Fred, Charlie was still fighting to get his Blackberry back, Percy looked purely shocked, Ginny looked angry. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley entered and added to the emotional portrait with their confusion.

"You said she was hott!" George taunted Ron.

Ron argued while turning bright red, "Well, umm, I didn't recognize her from the picture…"

"George Weasley, we do not use the word 'hott' under this roof!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, wondering what had overcome her kids lately. "Charlie, is that a cigarette?" she screeched.

Charlie abruptly threw the cigarette into Ron's water bottle. "Course not, mom…"

"Alright, alright, calm down. Can't you children settle down enough for us to eat dinner together? I'm sure you're all famished." Mr. Weasley said.

The promise of food was enough to break them out of their epic prank. Fred was almost trampled as the herd made its way into the kitchen, where they helped Mrs. Weasley prepare a meal for her the eleven residents.

Fred was putting out the plates and counting the present family members when a thought struck him. Eleven people living in the house, and yet only ten people were present… who was missing?

And then the thought struck him.

"Hey, has anyone heard from Hermione?"

The dismal silence was the only answer that he needed.

XXXXXXXX

The pounding of the rain was almost enough to make her forget about the intense throbbing in her arm. Clenching her most recent wound with her free, uninjured hand did little to lessen the pain. The soaked road glistened with the moonlight, it might have even been romantic under any other circumstances. The acknowledgement almost made her sick, what romance was left in the world anymore? Water dripped off of her face onto the pavement, tears and rain mingling together. The uneven thump-thump, thump-thump of her footsteps haunted the empty street, echoing down the endless passage that was her journey home.

How had she let herself fall so far away?


	7. Chapter 7

A Christmas Wish Ch.7

"Hey, has anyone heard from Hermione?"

The dismal silence was the only answer that he needed.

"She, um… said she was going shopping." Ginny offered weakly, knowing even as she said the words that shopping was not an activity that Hermione frequently partook of.

"How long ago did she leave?" Fred asked.

"Um… sometime this morning? So it's been… several hours." Ginny thought to herself as a cloud of foreboding sank over them.

Fred and Ginny shared a knowing look. Hermione complained when she had to shop for more than an hour, what was she doing out for such a long time? What if something had happened to her?

"Well, Hermione's a big girl, I'm sure she can handle herself." Mr. Weasley said, trying to sound reassuring. He knew the responsible, bushy-haired girl well and trusted her, but also couldn't help worrying at the expressions on his children's faces.

"Oh, don't ruin a perfectly good meal with all this brooding! Eat up, eat up!" Mrs. Weasley commanded, breaking them out of their gloom.

The family sat down for one of Mrs. Weasley's spectacularly famous meals, and immediately pleasant conversation began. Most of the conversation gravitated towards Harry and his quest, many of the tables' inhabitants wanted to forget the drama of the past few days and simply focus on saving the world again.

Despite the fact that laughter surrounded Fred, he couldn't focus on the meal before him. Ever since he realized that Hermione had been gone all day, he hadn't been able to truly focus on anything else. He picked at his food absentmindedly, rolling a few unfortunate peas into a grave of soup. Despite the attempt to distract himself, he couldn't stop wondering. His overactive imagination had a knack for conceiving the worst possible situations, a fact that did not go unnoticed by him in this particular moment of angst.

_Fred, get over yourself! She's a big girl and would probably laugh right in your face if she knew how much you were worrying._ A little devil with a trademark pitchfork and red pointy horns materialized in Fred's mind, voicing all of his doubts.

Fred smirked a little to himself. "Why, hello, evil Fred. Good to see you again…" He thought.

_Of course, of course. We had a lot of good times, right?_ The devil smiled a sinister grin, much in the fashion of Draco Malfoy.

"Like that time we told everyone that Hermione was having a baby… wooo, what a trip that was." Fred addressed his little red companion.

_That was a good one, dear Fred. I can't take credit for that one, it was all you my man. If you had-_

_ WHAT are you doing here? _Suddenly a figure reminiscent of an angelic Christmas ornament appeared as well. _This isn't silly and carefree like one of your pranks, this is serious!_

Fred looked confused for a moment. "Who are you?" He addressed the angel. He didn't even think he had one of those.

_For real, I thought I took care of you in Gethsemane! What are you doing back here? _Fred's bite-sized devil looked positively outraged that his spotlight had to be shared again.

The angel simply rolled its eyes at the antics of its counterpart. _I came back because of the sheer importance of the situation. Fred, this is Hermione we are talking about. If you listen to him, you could make one of the biggest mistakes of your life!_

"What do you mean, do you know something?" Fred nearly dropped his fork at the possibility.

_All I'm saying is that if Hermione is in trouble, then she will need someone like you to go and help her. She told you about Jack for a reason, Fred. You know she did. God only knows why, but she believes in you. She's depending on you. Not Harry, not Ron. You. That's all I have to say._ Angel wings fluttered and feathers were stolen away on the breath of the wind as the angel vanished, leaving only Fred and his devilish thoughts.

_Pshh, what a pansy. If he was a character in Street Fighter, no one would ever pick him as their fighter._ The devil observed.

"I think he has a point." Fred mulled over his words as he squished his unfortunate mashed potatoes with his fork.

_What? You can't actually be serious, can you?_ The little devil's cool exterior melted away to reveal his white hot temper.

"I dunno. Maybe it is about time that I stepped up and showed Hermione that I can be a man for her." Fred poured some salt on his food, needing something semi productive to do to keep his mind from overanalyzing.

_Listen to yourself, man! She was the one who ran away from you. She was the one who went back to him knowing what he does to her. She doesn't even know what she wants! How are you supposed to help if she won't even be brave enough to step up and leave him! Fred, you can't be expected to do everything. I mean, come on._

"Right… you're right. She doesn't need someone like me…"

"Fred! The salt, please!" Ginny waved her arm in front of her older brother's face, bringing him out of his thoughtful discussion with his various personality counterparts.

Fred shook his head a bit to tussle any remaining stray thoughts and picked up the salt, passing it to his anxious and slightly concerned looking younger sister.

"Hey, Fred, you in there?" Charlie playfully knocked his fist on Fred's head, and then pretended to listen for an answer. "Anyone home?"

Fred laughed along with everyone else, trying to forget the words of the angel that had crossed his path. The angel was wrong, like usual. What did he know, really? That sneaky little devil knew the real Fred Weasley much better than some uptight angel ever could. No, Hermione was making a mistake in confiding in him. She would handle matters by herself, just like she always did.

XXXXXX

Harry didn't get any sleep at all that night. He had turned in at about midnight, but around one o'clock furious pacing began in the room above him. One set of footsteps traced the same outline in the tile floor- to the front door, to the window, back to the door, hesitate, back to the window, rinse, lather, repeat. Harry had thrown several unfortunate objects at the ceiling to attempt to silence the pacing, but they proved to be no help at all. As agitated as Harry was, he couldn't even begin to imagine how aggravated George would be. It was his room, for crying out loud! Surely he was exhausted and wanted to sleep as well.

Harry turned and glanced at his alarm clock, the red numbers glaringly bright in the surrounding darkness that his eyes had grown accustomed to. The numbers winked 4:30, almost mocking Harry and his disdain at being awake at such an ungodly hour. He lay back on his bed, took a deep breath and exhaled it in a sigh. He wasn't going to get any sleep unless he got up and did something about the awful racket Fred was creating. He stood up from his warm solace and was immediately assaulted with the winter chill. He sent one longing glance back at the warmth of his bed and was tempted to retreat, but he knew that there was no rest to be found there. No, he was on a mission.

He gingerly opened the door, peering both ways before exiting. He shut his door behind him, looking around and trying to get his bearings in the dark. The hallway seemed so familiar to him during the daytime he almost never had to even think about where he was going or whose room was whose, however, now he felt completely disoriented. He ventured out towards his left with his hand, relaxing a little when his hand felt the familiar rough texture of wood. He felt along the side, using it as a guide to show him to the family room.

Suddenly, Harry heard the front door close. That was odd, he thought. Who would be coming through the front door at this hour? Surely Hermione was back by now. Perhaps it was an intruder?

Before Harry could act on the thought he heard thundering footsteps above him. They echoed across the hallway and down the stairs, eventually coming to a screeching halt in front of where the door was. Where the intruder would be.

Harry heaved a slight sigh of relief. If there was an intruder, then someone else would take care of it. A bloke could only save the entire world so many times in a day.

Harry was about to continue his quest to find Fred when he heard shouting from the direction of the door, and immediately his curiosity piqued. A fight? Between who? Could it be, perhaps, the infamous Hermione and Fred couple who weren't really a couple? Harry crept up the stairs, dangerously curious about what might be a new development in the epic Fred and Hermione love saga.

"I can do whatever I please, thank you very much, Fred Weasley!" He heard a vicious Hermione yell. He had heard that tone many times before. Usually it was reserved for the impulsive and foolish actions of the youngest Weasley brother.

"Hermione, do you have any idea how worried I was?" Fred yelled back. "I was up all night waiting for you to come back. You didn't bother to even call or let us know you were okay or anything!"

"For the last time, you are NOT in any way obligated to watch over me. I don't even understand why you were worrying about me so much!" Harry heard footsteps, slightly less ominous than Fred's but quicker and lighter. They came to a halt, though, as he heard one big fat footstep and assumed that Fred had blocked her path.

"You can't just do things like this, Hermione. We were all worried about you. And apparently with good reason, you look like you got hit by a truck." Harry had to stifle a laugh at this remark.

"Well gee, Fred, aren't you just a factory of compliments today?" Hermione spat sarcastically. She tried to get around Fred, but he continued to block her path. All that Harry heard was an epic shuffling of feet that reminded him of tennis shoes squeaking on gym floors in basketball games, echoing loudly from one of Dudley's few unbroken televisions.

"Hermione. Where were you? And don't give me that story about shopping, we all know that's not true." Fred determinedly stood in her path. There was a long, loaded pause as Hermione drew in a sigh.

"I went to try and break up with Jack."

All the laughter Harry felt died immediately, and he felt like even his mighty heart had lost the strength to beat anymore.

He knew the tense atmosphere had calmed after this revelation. There was no more shouting, only silence. He hoped they weren't filling up said silence with awkward displays of romantic affection. Despite what little he knew about romance, he figured that right now wouldn't be the most appropriate moment for something like that. He hoped he was right.

"I'm proud of you, Hermione. That took a lot of guts, I know." Fred said, his tone the most gentle and affectionate caress that Harry had ever heard from him.

"Thanks. I didn't succeed, though… I knew this would happen. I knew he'd just keep coming for me. I can't… I can't do anything…" Harry heard the characteristic sound of a Hermione breakdown coming, her voice cracked slightly and her breathing quickened.

Apparently Fred identified the upcoming crisis as well. "Hermione, you look hurt. We need to take care of you first, then we can figure this out, okay? I'm sure you're exhausted."

Harry heard a muffled sound of agreement from Hermione, and knew that she would be in good hands. He was insatiably curious, but the time for questions would come tomorrow. As long as he knew she was okay, that was good enough for him.

Harry turned and walked back to his room, the echoes of two pairs of footsteps no longer stomping or running, simply walking together, followed his path.

XXXXXXX

"You like chamomile, right?" Fred asked.

"What?" Hermione glanced up from her perch at the kitchen table. She was valiantly attempting to bandage her own arm. Her healing spells could only go so far, and she still needed a bandage to cover up the offending bruise.

Fred rolled his eyes when he saw her failed attempts at self-recovery. He put a pot on the kettle and turned on the stove, then walked over to her, taking the seat next to her.

Gently he took her arm in his hand. "You know you're supposed to let the knight in shining armor do that for you, right?"

"What? I have a knight in shining armor? Where, where?" Hermione looked around, feigning curiosity for said unidentified knight.

Fred chuckled before taking her face in his hand, eventually forcing her wandering gaze to find his own. "Right in front of you. It's time you opened your eyes and realized it."

Hermione's gaze softened, but before anything resembling a romantic moment could develop, he broke the eye contact and focused instead on her arm. "This guy really did a number on you, you know."

"Yeah, I know. It's just… he didn't have the greatest upbringing, and that's the only way he knows to express any sort of feelings." Hermione said.

"Are you actually defending this guy? Hermione, he hits you." Fred's blue eyes rang with passion, although he still refused to meet her gaze. Was he upset with her for something? Was it because she didn't let them know where she went?

"It's just that's all he knows. I know that he loves me in his own way, you know?" Hermione shrugged.

"I cannot even believe I'm hearing this right now. You're defending him. You're defending the guy who has made you cry and hurt and stress for the past god knows how many months! I don't… I don't even know." His tone was angry and bitter, but still his hold on her arm was gentle.

"He… he doesn't want to hurt me, and he's always sorry after he does it. He just… he just has his moments, I guess." Hermione meekly looked down at her lap, not wanting to meet his gaze and see the disappointment she knew she'd find there.

Fred stood up, needing space and a moment to think. He walked back over to the stove and picked up the steaming kettle he'd placed there earlier, pouring the aromatic tea into a mug. He dumped the remnants into the sink and brought the cup to Hermione, the warmth calming him down and helping him to compose his thoughts.

He placed the cup in front of Hermione. She glanced down at it and realized its contents, touched that he would remember something so trivial.

"Chamomile. The tea you were drinking the night I came home. I figured you could use some, since you say it calms you down." Fred said offhandedly, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Thank you, Fred. Really." Hermione said gratefully, attempting to look into the blue eyes that somehow always managed to avoid hers.

She sipped on the tea as Fred continued to wrap her arm, his warm fingers brushing over her smooth skin. They sat that way in silence for a while, simply dwelling in each other's company and trying not to admit to themselves that they had thirsted for the other's presence throughout the entire day. Despite the fact that their words were building up to an explosive argument, neither could deny that it felt good to be together again.

"Is anything else hurt besides your arm?" Fred asked as he finished tying the last knot on her bandage.

"Um… my…. My thigh." Hermione confessed with a blush.

Fred's fingers froze in mid-tie as all sorts of mental images assaulted him. The devil from dinnertime valiantly tried to make a comeback with some dangerous suggestions and he could practically see his own little angel trying to hold him back. He shook his head a little, clearing his mind and regaining his focus. He finished her bandage and lowered his hand, finally looking her in the eye.

"But I can do that on my own, can't I? I'm being silly, I'm sorry…" She hurriedly stood, forgetting said injured leg despite the fact that it was the subject of this particularly awkward moment. She stepped on it and a fierce pain shot through her, her knee nearly giving out. She tried to make up for the sudden lack of support with her right leg while simultaneously reaching out towards the closest support with her left hand. Somehow in the mix Fred had managed to stand as well, and had also managed to save Hermione from crashing into the tile. She found herself clutching both of his arms for support, one of his strong arms rapidly winding around her back to help.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Hermione repeatedly apologized. For what, she had no idea. Maybe for the clumsy stumble, maybe it was for being so late. Maybe it was because she didn't have the guts to do what she had to do. Maybe it was because she didn't have the nerve to confess to him how she really felt. Maybe it's because she knew she was hurting him by drawing him closer then pushing him away.

Maybe this single apology was covering it all.

Fred saw the tears coming, and he reflexively pulled her closer. It was part of his instinct to protect her. He didn't understand why, but for her he would do anything. He would reach out to her, he would push aside his childish tendencies and be a man for her. He would grow and he would learn, he would risk and he would fight. All for her.

"He doesn't hold you like this, does he?" Fred asked tenderly.

"He… he holds me, but…" Hermione trailed off, not wanting to ruin the moment with more sappy confessions. She didn't want to get too close, not again.

"But?" Fred prompted. He didn't want her to run from him anymore. He wanted her to be completely honest and open.

"I've never… I've never felt this safe with him. I've never felt so… so alive."

In response Fred simply held her tighter, breathing in her scent. He relished the moment, knowing that in a heartbeat it could all come crashing down. Moments like this with her were always so fragile, so short but yet so perfect and wonderful at the same time.

"I have to break up with him, don't I?" Hermione asked, the fear in her voice clearer than Fred had ever heard it before.

"Well, granted, you don't exactly have to, but it would greatly improve your situation, I think…" Fred joked.

Hermione chuckled, grateful for the touch of humor in the situation that was altogether too depressing.

An idea struck Hermione then, and she pulled away from his embrace to look him in the eye. "Fred… can you do me a favor?"

Fred's right eyebrow raised in suspicion. "What kind of favor, fair maiden? Involving dragons, epic quests, and princesses?"

Hermione smiled. "Help me break up with him."

The fear returned to his eyes before she'd even spoken the words. She knew that bravery wasn't his strong point, she knew that he would be afraid. He wasn't Harry or Ron, the protagonists and heroes. She knew that. However, at the same time, she needed him in a way that she couldn't describe. He brought such life and energy into her, and she didn't want to even imagine what would happen if that were to go away.

"Fred… I need you for this. Please." Hermione plead.

The resolve in Fred's eyes wavered for a moment, but his strength shone through. "For you, Hermione. Only for you."

Hermione smiled brightly, her happiness reaching her glittering eyes and radiating from her skin. It was absolutely divine. It was the first real smile he had seen from her since he'd been home. He knew that whatever hell came because of his promise, it was all worth it just for that glimpse of heaven.


	8. Chapter 8

A Christmas Wish- Chapter 8

"Jack, I've decided we should break up." Hermione said for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

"Hermione, I'm telling you, you've got to add more feeling to it!" Fred repeated the directions for what felt like one too many times. "Stand up straight, say it with authority!"

Hermione tried to comply, her shoulders raising and her chin straightening a little. It wasn't a confident pose, but Fred couldn't exactly blame her considering that she was about to confront an abusive boyfriend. It wasn't going to be easy, but that was why he was here. He would help her, despite the fact that his heart pounded with fear every time he thought of having to stand up and truly be a man for her. He'd never been the responsible type, and he was so afraid that all he would do was fail her.

"Jack, I've decided that we should break up!" Hermione said with more authority, even shaking her finger in Fred's direction for emphasis.

"That's better. Alright, now what do I say?" Fred asked.

"Well, you're Jack. Do what you think Jack would do. It'll be good practice for me."

Fred looked shocked that she would suggest that. "Um, I think that Jack would slap you. Sorry, but that's where the role playing ends."

Hermione bit her lip in thought. "Yeah… that part…"

Fred felt like kicking himself for bringing up such a tender subject. "Don't worry about it. We'll be so close to his place he won't even have a chance to hurt you. All you have to do is send up a flare and we'll apparate right in."

Hermione looked a little uncertain, a flicker of fear slunk behind the iron-hard will and resolve that she usually portrayed.

"I wish you were in there with me. I know that it's for the best, and I know I can't bring anyone because Jack wouldn't hear me out if I looked like I brought an army with me. I have to do this alone, I know. I just… I wish I didn't have to." She confessed.

Fred smiled sadly. In all honesty, he was glad that he wouldn't be forced to confront this guy just yet. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold himself back after knowing what he did to Hermione, how he hurt her. He didn't want any part of their conflict, but at the same time, sending her in alone gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that refused to go away.

"I know, Hermione. Just think, sooner or later this will all be over, right?"

Hermione tried to force a smile, but it just wasn't there. "Yeah. It'll all be over."

"So, Hermione… what are your plans after breaking up with Jack? I mean, I know it's soon to jump into something else, but I was kind of wondering… um…" Fred awkwardly scratched the back of his head, avoiding her eye contact as his sentence sputtered to a stop.

"What… what do you mean, Fred?" Hermione teased, immediately sensing the intent of his comment.

"Well, um… I was just thinking, you and I… I know we fight a lot and stuff, but… um… uh…"

_What is WRONG with you?_ Fred's characteristic little devil jarred his brain a few times. _You're Fred Weasley, Casanova of Hogwarts! The object of all teenage girls' dreams! What are you waiting for? Jeez!_

"What if she says no?" Fred abruptly said, forgetting momentarily that the voice was only in his head. Hermione jumped a little at the outburst, looking at him with suspicion. Fred's eyes immediately widened as he realized his mistake. His brain frantically searched for something, anything to excuse the outburst. Despite how much he tried, however, an alibi could not be found. He was just going to have to tell her the truth.

"Well, Hermione, in all honesty, I was going to ask you out. It was going to be great. I'd come up with all these flattering statements and well-worded compliments. I'd tell you how whenever you enter a room, my heart skips a beat. I would tell you that I'd protect you forever, because I've never met anyone like you. I would cry and you would cry and it'd be this beautiful moment, but honestly, I got nothing. All I know is that I want you by my side. Is that… enough?"

Fred desperately tried to read Hermione's reaction, but a he couldn't describe the conglomeration of emotions scattered across her face with any single word. She looked happy yet upset, confused and excited, scared and content all at once. What was going through her mind? What he wouldn't give to know the depths of those swirling chocolate eyes.

"I don't… I don't think that's a good idea." Hermione said awkwardly.

"Why not?" Fred pressured.

Hermione suddenly looked very uncomfortable. She wrung her hands and avoided his gaze, shifting her weight from one foot to the next as if she was ready to spring. "Well, um… I just don't… see it happening, really. I just don't think it's a good idea."

Fred had very rarely seen Hermione at a loss for words, most of those situations were because of his own antics. He searched her eyes, the orbs darting around the room, desperately latching onto anything but his own.

"I know there's more to it than that." Fred said in an uncharacteristically forceful voice.

Hermione looked up with a start. "What do you mean?"

"You're Hermione Granger. If someone asks you why, you immediately give an expanded definition, reasons, proofs, and examples. All you gave me were broken excuses that you made up on the spot. Whatever it is that's keeping us apart, you're not going to talk to me about it."

"I don't… know what you're talking about…" Hermione looked very uncertain as he began to pinpoint her motives, and break down the defensive walls that had worked so well on everyone else.

"There's something going on that you're dealing with, something you're refusing to let anyone help you with. You're strong, Hermione, stronger than just about anyone I know, but you don't have to do this alone forever. We're here for you. We're here to help you, and we always will be. We can help you, but you have to let us."

It was true that Hermione was brave and strong, but right now she looked downright terrified. Never had anyone come close to guessing the truth, never had anyone guessed the reason behind her unwillingness to date boys. She was dealing with a secret that was so immense she didn't want to wish it on others, and had done it for so long that sharing that secret was absolutely out of the question. Letting others into her world had always frightened her, and most likely would for the rest of her life.

"I still don't know what you're talking about." Hermione stoically answered as she gracefully stormed out of the room.

Fred was beyond frustrated. He had tried everything. He had joked with her, been sweet to her, taken her horseback riding, sworn to fight for her, promised to be whatever she needed. What else could she possibly want? What else could she expect from him?

Fred shot to his feet with the force of a nuclear powered missile and followed Hermione's path, leaving all sorts of destruction in their wake. He soared around a corner and screeched to a halt when he saw Hermione standing not two feet in front of him, at a dead halt as well. She whirled around to face him, her eyes burning with anger and her hair sticking out in all sorts of crazy angles from their recent argument.

"You know what, Fred Weasley? You're wrong. I can handle this on my own. I've been taking care of things myself for years and I don't understand why that wouldn't hold true now. I don't need anything or anyone, not for this. I can at least handle my own life. And, to prove it-" she pulled out her wand- "I'm going to go break up with Jack, once and for all. And I won't need your help."

"But, Hermione-" Fred reached, but his hand grasped nothing but empty air where Hermione had been moments before. He threw up his hands in frustration. He'd had enough of this. He wanted to be more for her, he wanted to save her. But if she didn't let him, then he had no choice but to let her go. He had tried everything, but it still just wasn't enough.

Fred shook his head angrily. He needed something to calm his nerves.

He whirled into the kitchen, eagerly hunting for some delectable dish that he could release his frustrations on. He greedily snatched a cup of chocolate pudding, kicking the refrigerator door shut with a little more force than was actually required.

"Hey, man, what did the poor fridge ever do to you?" Charlie asked.

Fred turned to see Charlie propped up against the kitchen table with his own pack of chocolate pudding. Ron sat at the table, entranced by the fabled Blackberry, immune to the temptation of chocolate pudding as long as electronics were within grasp.

"Is there any privacy in this house? It's like there's a Weasley around every corner." Fred observed as he peeled open the plastic seal, the atrocity keeping him from his glorious pudding.

"Not while all of us are home again, no. Which segues into the next topic in our conversation- was that Hermione just now? And was she yelling at you?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Charlie shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's probably your fault, anyhow."

"Tell me about it. We Weasley men just have a habit of making females mad."

"Apparently not all Weasley men have that talent…" Charlie looked very pointedly at Ron, who began to grow a delightful shade of crimson.

Fred's eyes lit up as the realization dawned on him. "You don't mean-"

"Luna Lovegood. He's been talking to her nonstop ever since the dating site matched them together." Charlie said with a wicked and victorious grin across his face.

"Charlie, I told you not to tell anyone!" Ron exclaimed indignantly.

"No privacy in the Weasley household, Ron! Don't forget our cardinal rule!" Fred pointed out.

"Whatever. Shouldn't we all be focusing on Fred's astronomical disaster right now?" Ron desperately tried to divert the conversation.

Fred's eyes turned dark at the mention of Hermione. "Hey, I thought we agreed not to talk about that."

Ron's eyes brightened in a rare moment of inspiration, and he tapped a few more words into his Blackberry. His brow furrowed as his blue orbs scanned the results of his search, finally coming to a halt on one single name.

"Where is Percy?" Ron said with a suddenly urgent tone to his voice.

Charlie and Fred both looked surprised at his outburst, but Fred covered it up with his own gloom. "Upstairs playing Rock Band, where else?"

"Go and get him." Ron commanded, never taking his eyes off of the screen.

Charlie exchanged a confused glance with Fred, and then left to find the prodigal Weasley child.

Fred pensively ate a glob of chocolate pudding. What could the youngest Weasley brother be up to now?

A few moments later, Charlie came thundering down the stairs with a very angry Percy in tow. Harry came down the steps a moment later, interested in all the commotion.

"Charlie, this had better be important! I was in the middle of mastering Enter Sandman!" Percy bellowed.

Ron immediately turned to him and said, "You said the name Jack sounded familiar but couldn't remember why. Do you at least remember where you heard it?"

Percy looked taken aback by Ron's sudden assertiveness. "I think it was at work, they were talking about a court case. But it could have been anything, and it's such a common name, I mean, you really can't use that as a lead-"

"Was it the case of the kidnappings at Diagon Alley a few years back?" Ron interrupted.

Immediately the very air seemed to tense. Ron's eyes burned with the passion of a man who was on the verge of a fantastic discovery, one that was vitally important to their lives.

"Yes, I… I do believe it was. Three young girls, disappeared, they never found the bodies so there wasn't enough evidence to convict him…" Percy said, recognition beginning to dawn on his features. "How did you…"

Ron victoriously waved the Blackberry. "Even wizards aren't immune to the internet, mate. All I had to do was search for a few key terms, and his case came right up. It said that this Jack character had a history of kidnap and abuse, and it just clicked."

"Wow, Ronniekins figured something out all by himself!" Charlie exclaimed.

"This is no time for joking around, Charlie." Fred said, his voice wrenched with fury bordering on panic. "Do you have any idea what this means for Hermione?"

Ginny and George appeared at the top of the stairs. The burrow was small enough that any loud ruckus could be heard throughout the house.

"It means that she needs to get away from him, as soon as she can!" Ron exclaimed.

"It means that the person she is with right now is the one person who could hurt her the most." Fred pointed out.

Ginny was the first to react after a tense moment. "Ron, what else can you find out about this Jack character?"

Ron tapped away on his Blackberry, only a few moments passing before he revealed the results of his search. "Well, he has a Facebook, that's interesting… hmm, no, I am not interested in a new cable service… or the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie… can't believe they'd try and make four of those movies, I mean, enough is enough…"

"Ron, just skip to the important stuff! We don't need to know any of that spam." Ginny said impatiently. She glanced over at Fred, he was clenching his fists. He looked like he was just barely able to hold everything in, like he was an emotional volcano about to burst.

"Right, right, sorry… Wait, what's this? Apparently Voldemort has a website, and Jack's name was linked to it…" Ron mentioned.

"Voldemort has a website? Really?" Charlie asked, amused.

"Yeah, there's some really messed up stuff here… you can fill out an online application to be a death eater, contact death eaters, request a pamphlet or brochure, take a virtual tour of their facilities, and play 'Muggle Hunt.' But that's not really important…" Ron said absentmindedly as he continued to scroll down the page.

"Look for anything that could tell us where Hermione's gone. Any address that's connected to Jack, or any base where he's located." Ginny commanded.

Ron's eyes lit up. "I've got it, I've got an address!"

"We need to go there right away and get her out. Who's with me?" Ginny asked.

"I'll go." Ron immediately said.

"Me too." Said George.

"Yeah, us too," said Charlie and Percy.

Ginny turned to Fred. "Fred? What about you?"

Fred sighed. "These are death eaters we're talking about! We could be taking on all of Voldemort's minions and not even know it! Are we really ready for this?"

George's eyes narrowed. "Are you serious? Yes, we are talking about many death eaters, but we are also talking about Hermione here." George started walking towards Fred, never breaking eye contact. "This is the same Hermione that you have spent weeks and weeks talking about, the same Hermione that drives you crazy and makes you pace until four in the morning. The same one that drives you to be a better man than you have ever been before. You promised her you would fight for her, you promised her you'd be anything if only for her sake. Did you mean it?"

Fred answered ferociously, "You know I did."

"Then prove it. She needs you now. Or are you going to run away again?"

Fred's eyes hardened like steel, determination solidifying into a crystal of resolve. "I'll go. Yes, of course I'll go."

"Someone should stay behind and tell mom and dad where we've gone, so they can alert the Order just in case." Ginny pointed out.

"Just in case what?" Percy asked sheepishly.

"In case we don't make it back." Ginny responded, a glint of determination in her eyes. "Welcome to our world, Percy."

Percy gulped rather audibly. In truth, they were all nervous, but they had grown so accustomed to danger that they had learned to use their fears to fuel their determination and drive. He had seen them fight throughout their years, watching from the sidelines at the Ministry of Magic. Never had he seen their strength up close, never had he been directly involved in it before.

"Ron, make sure you bring the Blackberry and hope this place has internet. We might need it." Charlie's voice interrupted Percy's thoughts. Millions of orders were being barked at each other, last minute plans were furiously being laid into a shaky path to support their efforts.

"Bill! Where is Bill?" Fred hollered the oldest Weasley brother's name.

Moments later Bill stormed down the stairs, Ginny spoke to him in frantic whispers to catch him up to speed with all that was going on. Soon they had the rough outline of a plan forming, Ron constantly feeding them information from his Blackberry. They all functioned like a well-oiled machine, each one of them smoothly doing their part to organize the raid as quickly as possible.

"Um, if it's possible… I'd like to stay here." Percy meekly said.

Harry turned to Percy. "Percy, you have valuable information about the enemy. No one else has worked with the Ministry and no one else has insider privileges to the cases that Jack was involved in. You're more important to us than you may think."

"But you've got the Blackberry, don't you? Can't you use that to do all the researching you need?" Percy argued.

"We could, but any information we find may be false. You know how the Ministry warps the truth." Percy looked away uncomfortably as Harry pointed out the flaws of his employer. "We need a source who was there, someone who will give us the cold, hard facts without embellishing them for the sake of appearing better to the rest of the world."

Percy sighed. "I'm just not strong like you guys! I don't… I'm not brave or anything. I'd probably just get in the way."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Percy, you are nearly as brilliant as Hermione. When push comes to shove, I'm sure you'd be able to defend yourself. This is it. You can stay home and remain a coward and wait for them to come attack you in your sleep, or you can come with us and meet them head on. It's up to you."

The older Weasleys looked astonished at the outburst of the youngest sibling. When had little Ginny worked up the bravery for such a statement? What had happened while they'd been away? Was the world truly in so much peril that their baby sister had been forced to experience the cruel lessons of bravery and sacrifice?

Percy's jaw tightened. "Fine. I'll go. I don't think it's a good idea, but I'll go."

Ginny smiled. "We need you, Percy, we really do. And you won't be alone, all of us will be there to help you out."

"Wait, all of us? I thought you said someone needed to stay behind to let mom and dad know where we've gone. Do you have any idea how grounded we'll be if we all just take off?" Fred pointed out.

Ron shrugged. "Why don't we just leave a note on the counter? I'm sure she'll see it."

Charlie said sarcastically, "And what would it say, 'gone to save the world, don't stay up?' I mean, honestly."

Ron muttered, "Something like that."

"I like it. We need all the fighting power we can get." Bill pointed out. Ron waved his wand a couple of times and muttered a few incantations, moments later a paper with their situation clearly written out fluttered to the table. After finishing, Ron laid another incantation over it to prevent anyone who wasn't their parents from reading it and discovering their whereabouts.

"Is everybody ready?" George asked. "Once we get there, we leave together or not at all. Understand?"

"Wait… you mean if one of us gets captured…" Percy started to say.

"I mean exactly what I said. We'll go home together, or not at all. We're on a mission, and we won't back down until Hermione is safe again." George turned to Fred. "Right, Fred?"

"Right. Right." Fred gulped nervously.

"The portkey is our way out. Fred has it. It's the old watch- all you have to do to activate it is twist the hour hand counterclockwise to the twelve. Are you ready to do this?" George asked once more.

Fred nodded grimly. "For Hermione."

In a flash, the eight of them vanished.

A/N: Jack's a death eater, what? Will Harry and the Weasleys (and especially our scrumptious Fred) get there in time to save her? It's a bit of a cliffhanger, I'll admit, but I do love my cliffhangers! I also know this is kind of a late update, and I apologize… I've been having some struggles with my internet and computer, but it seems like it's all straightened out now. Thanks for all your reviews and support, it means so much to me!


	9. Chapter 9

Heyyyy!

I know it's been a long, long time since an update. *runs into corner and hides* Just to give you guys a recap, since it's been such a long time, Harry and the crew are charging Jack's base because they recently realized that Jack was actually in league with Voldemort. Hermione has gone to break up with Jack, so they decide to get her out of there at all costs. In some sort of penance for taking so long to update, I've given you guys a pretty dramatic chapter. Hope y'all like it!

A Christmas Wish- Chapter 9

Hermione took a deep breath.

"Jack, I want to break up."

He swiveled his elaborate leather armchair to face her. The fireplace behind him flooded the room with an eerie crimson glow. His pale face absorbed the red light, giving him a dark and sinister appearance. Hermione knew it was only the effect of the intense colors on him, she knew that she had to stand her ground and not be afraid. There was truly nothing substantial for her to be afraid of, not yet. However, despite this knowledge, her entire frame trembled and her voice bordered on panic. She knew she was about to break.

"And why, pray tell, would you want to do that my love?" Jack inquired as he sipped a glass of wine, as casually as he might ask what the weather was like. None of his exterior betrayed his true intentions, he seemed as amiable and unsuspecting as he had when they first met.

Hermione shoved those thoughts aside, she now knew the bastard that he truly was. "Jack, I just… I don't think this is working anymore." She wrung her hands nervously. She could feel the sweat begin to accumulate on her palms, betraying her nervousness.

Jack spoke with all the diplomacy of a politician stating a speech. "Hermione, dear, I have been nothing but kind to you ever since we've met. The only things I ever did to you were for your own ultimate benefit. You know I love you. You're safe with me. I can give you everything – riches, power, glory. Why would you want to throw this away now?"

Hermione looked him straight in the eye, pushing her fears and doubts aside for the sake of something more important. "Because if I don't do this now, I will regret it for the rest of my life."

"Hermione… I love you. I love you like I have never loved anyone. You understand me, you listen to my fears and doubts. You don't judge me when I talk about my parents and my history, not like everyone else does. You are so, so precious to me. I will not lose you." His eyes hardened, the aggression building and tensing. Hermione knew that look well. He was about to snap.

Hermione instinctively felt for her wand. This time, she would not back down. This time she would not merely accept that this was normal, not like her mother or her mother before her. No, she would be the exception to the rule. She would not live this way.

"I will not do this anymore, Jack," Hermione spoke, her voice growing stronger and stronger by the minute. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. The hitting, the punching, the throwing… it has to stop. I don't know if this is love, but if it is, then I don't want any part of it. And I don't know what strength is within me, but I plan on fighting to my last dying breath if only to get away from you."

Jack abruptly stood up from his armchair, eyes burning with passion and anger. He set his wineglass down on a side table so hard that Hermione was amazed it didn't shatter. He strode over to her slowly, deliberately trying not to intimidate her but frightening her all the more because of it. He had the stance of a predator about to lure his prey in, wooing with promises of love and happiness before finally crushing his teeth around their frail neck in a killing blow.

He reached out to her, his touch so familiar and yet so deadly. He took her by the shoulders gently, looking her in the eye as he did so. He stroked the soft curve of her shoulder with his thumb, his gaze softening as he attempted to salvage the remains of their broken relationship.

"Don't you remember all of the experiences we've had, all the things we've been through? What about the trip to Europe, what about our future together? Hermione, we have something truly special. Don't throw this away over something so trivial." He leaned closer, whispering in her ear, "Please, Hermione. Please."

Hermione shook her head, snapping herself out of any sort of reverie she might have fallen into. "No, not anymore. I told you, I'm done."

In a flash Jack grabbed her by the shoulders, not gently like he had before, but with the intention of harm. Hermione instinctively cringed away, trying to shield her face with her forearms from whatever blow might come. Her knees gave way as he slammed her into the wall, her head whipping back and narrowly avoiding a nasty collision.

As abruptly as he had taken her, he released her like some diseased animal and strode away. Hermione remained where she fell, curling into a protective position and wrapping her arms around herself in what could only be called a defensive posture. Her breathing was ragged, she drew in short gasps in a vain attempt to calm her trembling figure.

"Damn it, Hermione. You know I don't want to hurt you. You know that. But when you do things like this, when you threaten our love like that, you leave me with no other choice. I can't just sit by and let you destroy us. Do you understand, Hermione?" He whirled around, a gleam of madness dancing frantically in the dark recesses of his eyes.

"Don't you see? I don't want to hurt you any more than you want to be hurt. Do you think I enjoy this? But you need to be punished when you do bad things, Hermione. I love you, but I will not let this relationship end."

Hermione made no move to answer him. All of her preconceived plans were falling to pieces before her very eyes. She had fervently hoped that he wouldn't bring out this speech again. Every time she heard it, she so desperately wanted to believe it. She wanted to think that they had a valuable relationship, something that didn't come along every day. Deep in her heart, however, she knew that it was a lie. Her pounding, throbbing heartbeat and shuddering, terrified frame told her more than his words ever did. He was hurting her, and she had to get away.

Using the wall as support, she drug herself to her feet. The physical blow wasn't particularly painful, but the sheer weight of what she was about to do was enough to nearly bring her to her knees again. She had to stand, she had to show that she wasn't going to back down like she had before. She was starting a new life as a new person, one that didn't crumble even in the face of undeniable danger.

She whipped out her wand faster than lightning, Jack snatched his before he could be caught off guard. Both of them launched a spell, their world a mixture of frightened words, confused voices, and deadly combat.

And always, the crimson glow of the fire enveloped them both, drowning their fight in a world of darkest red.

XXXXXXX

As a barrage of green and blue lights erupted from the abandoned warehouse where Hermione and Jack were fighting, a group of wizards clambered from behind a bush on a busy suburban street two blocks away. Voldemort's base was, ironically, in the heart of Muggle London. They exited one at a time to try and not draw suspicion to themselves, each of them looking as nonchalant as possible. They gathered on the street corner, lowering their voices whenever a passerby came too close.

"Alright. We go in, aim a few stunning charms, grab Hermione, and get out as soon as possible." Bill repeated their hastily drawn-up plan. "Few injuries, no deaths. I think we can do this, guys."

"Well, aren't you encouraging…" Ginny said sarcastically. "Of course we can do this. How hard could it possibly be for the eight of us to take down one death eater?"

"Death eater…" Fred muttered, swallowing violently.

"You alright, mate?" George asked, concerned at Fred's pale complexion.

"Fine, fine. I have to be. I told her I'd do this, so I have to. Fine. It'll be fine." Fred rambled.

George wasn't convinced. He elbowed his twin in the ribs. "Hey, you've gotta snap out of it. Whatever gruesome death you've created in your mind isn't going to happen, you hear me?"

"Right. You're right." Fred continued to mumble.

The others looked concerned as well, but they knew that there was no time to waste. Hermione was alone with a psycho death eater, there was no telling how much time they had before she'd succumb to his dark curses.

"Alright, let's do this." Charlie said as he strode off, the rest of the group following closely behind. The corporate world buzzed around them as they walked. Cars honked their horns and people in business suits looked nearly as stressed out as they did. A clock chimed in the distance and pedestrians bustled about. To everyone else, it was just another ordinary day.

But not to them.

For Fred, it was anything but ordinary. He had never been this nervous in his life. He had never had to save anyone, he had never had to fight anything that wasn't in a classroom environment. Sure, he had a good knowledge of spells and enchantments, especially ones that helped his joke products. But he knew he wasn't like Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron stared evil in the face nearly every day. He just didn't have the experience that they had. He couldn't do this. He wanted to. He so desperately wanted to save Hermione, but he couldn't face them.

"George." Fred said from the back of the group. George immediately dropped back to Fred's position, a little separate from everyone else.

"Whats up, Fred?" He asked.

Immediately Fred dug the portkey from his pocket. "Take this. I can't do it, George, I just can't."

George looked him straight in the eye, an emotion dangerously close to disappointment appearing in their blue depths. "Do you love her?"

George's question surprised Fred. Of all the things to say, that was the most unexpected. "I… I don't know."

"She is counting on you. The rest of us are here just to make you look good in front of her, but really, she wants to see you. Are you really going to let her down like that?"

"I can't do it, George. I just can't."

George swiped the portkey from Fred, forcefully ripping it from his hand. "I knew it. She's just another girl to you, just a conquest. Hermione deserves more than that."

Before Fred could protest, George had caught up to the rest of the group. Regretting every single step, he turned and headed back to the Burrow.

XXXXXXX

Hermione was warm. Too warm, in fact. She was surrounded by blankets, she agitatedly pushed them to the side. The room was dark, but wasn't unusually cold or uncomfortable in any way. Why had they bothered to keep her warm? She was a prisoner now. Didn't they understand that?

Instinctively Hermione felt for her wand. Surely they knew better than to leave an angry witch with her wand. Sure enough, she couldn't find it anywhere. Hermione was going to have to rely on her wit to get out of this one. Perhaps if she said the right words, got on Jack's good side again, she could simply slip out when he wasn't looking.

Hermione shook her head. No, she had a job to do. She came to break up with him and she wouldn't leave until she had worked up the courage for it.

Hermione tried to sit up, but her vision immediately began spinning and whirling and her stomach felt queasy. She lay back down, gingerly placing her right hand on her forehead in a vain attempt to stop the twirling madness. A few seconds later she got her bearings back, and she took her bandaged hand off of her head.

Wait, that was strange. Why had they bandaged her hand? Surely she had worse injuries on her, maybe a concussion or two judging by the way she couldn't focus or see straight. So why would they take time to bandage her hand? If they wanted her to heal, why didn't they just cast a healing spell?

Were they trying to hide something?

Hermione didn't know, but she decided to waste no more time in pondering. She could worry about it later, once she was far away from this place. She tried to sit up again, much slower this time, and had more success than her initial attempt. Her feet were unsteady and her stomach still uneasy, but she pressed forward like a warrior. She needed to ignore the discomfort, otherwise it would only slow her down.

Hermione placed her two feet on the ground experimentally, like a swimmer testing the water before a plunge. They seemed steady enough, so she rose herself up and took tiny steps toward a sliver of light from the door. She didn't know where the door led, but she knew that staying in one place due to fear of the unknown wouldn't help her at all.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Hermione was assaulted with a barrage of light. Her eyes were unaccustomed to such brightness after being held in the darkness for so long, and she instinctively reached up to shield them. She saw a male figure in the doorway- what if it was Jack?

She grit her teeth and prepared herself for a fight. Despite being in the condition she was, she would never submit to him again. She wanted better. She deserved better.

"Hermione?" A voice called out. It wasn't Jack's voice, and a wave of relief swept over Hermione. It was a much warmer voice, much more familiar and comforting.

"Fred? Is it really you? You came!" Her heart leaped inside her chest. He had meant every word, every promise to protect her and keep her safe. Even after their argument, even after all the terrible things she had said to him, he was brave enough to come and rescue her.

She knew she had been right in trusting him.

"No… it's George." The figure called as he stepped into the room.

Her heart plummeted like a cement block into an icy pool, sinking lower and lower into its depths. Her smile faded quickly, her eyes lowered. She tried to hide her obvious disappointment, but George saw through it.

"He's waiting at the Burrow, though… he'll be there when you get home." George tried to sound comforting.

"I can't believe it. I can't believe that after all he said… No, I'm sorry. This isn't the time or the place, we need to get out of here."

George sighed a little. He knew that Fred was the one Hermione wanted to see, he knew that she'd be disappointed when she didn't. So why did it hurt him now, even if he had already acknowledged that this would be her response? Why did it hurt to see the obvious longing in her eyes, to feel the pull of despair when she realized that he wasn't the one she wanted?

George shook his head. All the stress must be getting to him.

He grabbed her uninjured hand and pulled her away from the dark room. They needed to get out. More importantly, George needed to leave these odd emotions behind.


	10. Chapter 10

A Christmas Wish- Chapter 10

Hermione and George ran through the old warehouse, desperately seeking their other party members. Hermione stumbled every few steps, but George was always there to catch her before she fell.

Hermione thought to herself, _Funny, up until recently, that was what Fred would-_

_ Stop that_, Hermione chastised herself. _He wasn't what he said he was. He isn't worth your time anymore._

They ran past hundreds of unused rooms, and Hermione silently cursed the fact that Voldemort had chosen one of the largest warehouses ever constructed for his base. Her vision teetered on the cliff of blacking out, and her legs seemed to rebel every few steps despite what she wanted them to do. She knew she was dragging George down, but it was all she could do just to keep going.

"I think I hear them! Once we rejoin them, we'll get out of here!" George exclaimed.

Hermione slammed to a halt as she remembered. "George, they took my wand! We have to get it back!"

George stopped as well, his mind trying to make room in their plan for someone to go find Hermione's wand. Honestly, it could be anywhere, the factory was enormous.

"We'll tell the others when we meet them. I'm sure we can think of something, but first, we have to get you out of here!" George said, pulling her along.

Endless, identical rooms continued zooming by as they proceeded down the hallway. George took all sorts of turns, sometimes stopping to think about where they were. Hermione was thankful she was with someone who was directionally gifted.

"I think I hear them!" George stopped abruptly and Hermione stumbled to a less than graceful stop.

Sure enough, sounds of combat could be heard from their left. They both started in that direction, slightly more cautious now that they knew a war zone was nearby. They glanced toward the end of the hallway and saw wayward spells flying about in the room at the end. They knew that was their destination, and they knew that getting out together would be tougher than they initially planned.

Hermione and George glanced around the corner. The sight that greeted them was a spectacular array of combat spells flying in each and every direction. The brilliant lights reflected off of the massive oil tanks at the back of the room, thankfully none of them made it far enough to hit a tank. It was a miracle that their group managed to avoid most of the spells. They formed a rough battle line, and were taking on about five death eaters. Ever so slowly, the line began to move forward, trapping the death eaters in their own hideout. They were outnumbered and quite possibly outskilled, and as they realized this the panic began to set in. Their attacks became scattered and frantic, bouncing off of wayward windows or completely off target. No longer were they using their ingenuity to win the battle- they were simply panicking, which made them that easier to take down.

Despite Hermione's best attempts to stay awake and pay attention, she knew that she was losing strength fast. Her legs began to tremble under her own weight, her eyelids became heavier by the second. Somebody could have drugged her, so that she'd be unable to escape on her own. That was quite possible. She leaned on the wall for support, even her arms shaking from the effort it took.

Thankfully, their party soon disposed of the death eaters. Hermione and George emerged from their hiding place, George half helping, half carrying Hermione. Ginny rushed over as soon as she saw the pair, clear worry etched on her face.

"Hermione, what happened to your head?" She exclaimed.

"My… what?" Hermione sounded confused, very uncharacteristic for her. This fact made Ginny even more concerned. The head wound could be affecting her mental functions, which could mean it was fatal.

"George, we have to get her out of here first." Ginny ordered.

George immediately protested. "What happened to 'we leave together or not at all?' I thought that was our strategy!"

"That was before we realized that Hermione was fatally wounded! George, get her out of here!" Ginny ordered.

"She's right, mate." Charlie piped up. "Hermione needs help as soon as she can get it."

"But what about the rest of you?" George asked.

"We'll be fine. Just get her back home and get some help for Hermione. We'll be right behind you after we dispose of the place." Charlie promised.

George sighed, but he knew the wisdom of their words. Hermione seemed to be getting weaker by the moment. He knew that if they stayed instead of getting her help, the delay could very well mean the difference between life and death.

"Alright, fine. Take the portkey." He handed Charlie the watch that he had been carrying with him. "Hermione's wand is missing. Somebody needs to figure out a way to get it before you leave. They've probably charmed it against being called by a spell-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just go! We dismantled the wards for this place several minutes ago, you should still be able to get out the same way we came in." Charlie said impatiently as he snatched the portkey out of George's hands. He gestured towards a giant, gaping hole in the wall of the factory that appeared as if it had been blasted apart by a curse of some sort.

George nodded his thanks and took Hermione in his arms, jogging towards the exit. He hated to leave his family behind to face unknown peril, but he knew he had no other choice.

Behind him, Charlie handed the portkey to Harry. Harry looked at him with a questioning stare. "Well, you're pretty much our leader, anyways. You should keep track of it." Charlie explained.

Moments after George left, the group was surrounded by death eaters. Dozens upon dozens of them poured from the hallways, unused rooms and even closets. Their black hoods seemed to stretch forever, endless masses of dark bodies completely filled the room. They advanced upon the companions, coming from all sides, cutting off all exits. The group instinctively formed a circle facing them all, wands outstretched, hoping that their formation would somehow provide them with adequate defense.

Suddenly Percy's eyes lit up as he fit all the scattered pieces together. Hermione being kidnapped, held hostage here, because they knew her friends would try to save her...

"This was a setup. This was all a set up, a trap!"

"Who knew the ministry brat was so brilliant?" A figure stepped out of the mass of dark cloaks, just as identical as the rest of them.

"Jack." Percy's eyes narrowed.

"And impressive memory, too. That trial was several years ago. As much as I'd love to take the time to introduce myself to the rest of you… cretins… we do have a mission to accomplish here. Before we begin, however, we need to take care of your weapons. Wands, please."

Before the party could do anything, their wands were snatched from their hands by an invisible spell. They flew towards the back of the room and started zooming down the hallway that George and Hermione had come from. Their hearts were pounding, brains whirring and trying to come up with a plan with very few resources available to them. They were vastly outnumbered, and no matter how they combined their own individual abilities, it wasn't looking good. They couldn't take them all on without several casualties. Without their wands, they were helpless.

The death eaters raised their wands, all in unison, as if they were being controlled by only one person.

"Look, we surrender. We're clearly outnumbered and outskilled." Harry tried to reason with him.

Jack chuckled, the sound dark and haunting, like a wail from the shrieking shack. "Oh, you poor cretins, you misunderstand me. I blame you awful children for taking away my Hermione. My dear, precious Hermione… I will have her back. Punishment is most severe for those who interfere. You see, children… this is not a battle anymore. This is an extermination."

Harry instinctively reached for Ginny's hand. Their pulses hammered together, both were terrified, but neither would show it. In fact, all of the Weasleys stood tall and proud, staring fear directly in the face.

Well, all of them except for two.

The older siblings formed a group around the younger, Bill and Charlie and Percy on the outside of the ring. They could perform basic wandless magic, and could perhaps shield the younger kids long enough for them to escape. It was a long shot, but it was the only option they had.

"Now, my death eaters… kill them!" Jack ordered.

"Duck!" Harry grabbed the people closest to him and hit the floor, hoping that everyone else had managed to hear him and follow his orders quickly enough.

Spells flew over their heads, striking death eaters on the opposite end of the circle. The diversion gave Bill, Charlie, and Percy enough time to cast wandless shield spells on the younger kids, and then themselves. They could only do simple spells without their wands, but it was better than nothing.

Jack howled in anger and frustration. He would have them killed, he had to! His forces vastly outnumbered theirs. They were more intelligent than he had given them credit for, a mistake he would never make again.

Harry immediately picked up some black robes from fallen death eaters. He handed them to his friends, knowing that if they wanted to get out they'd have a better chance if they looked identical to everyone else. The others wasted no time in donning the dark attire and dispersing into the crowd, quickly becoming lost among the group.

All spell firing ceased as the death eaters became confused. The party did their best to fit the act as well, acting confused and disoriented while secretly devising a plan to get them out together. Harry's quick thinking with the cloaks would keep them from immediate death, but would their separation keep them from getting out safely?

"What are you doing?" Jack bellowed. "Find them! Search every death eater! Fire at will!"

Harry knew that his momentary diversion had only bought them a small amount of time, and that precious little time was running out. Spells started flailing through the building once again. Harry saw death eaters drop one after the other, and could only pray that none of them were his companions.

Suddenly, an enormous boom shook the entire factory. Harry's head snapped towards the direction of the sound, and his eyes saw one of the massive oil tanks split down the middle. Gasoline flooded the place, its awful stench spreading even faster than the slithering liquid. The death eaters seemed slightly confused by the foreign substance, but wasted no time in continuing their pursuit of the disguised prisoners.

Harry watched as the gasoline spread all over the floor, and finally, an idea struck him.

Before he could act on it, though, he saw a shock of red hair in the corner of his eyes. A cloaked figure was surreptitiously easing away from the pack, heading towards the back of the room where their wands had been taken. This death eater was smaller in stature than the others. When she had broken away from the pack, she started sprinting towards the hallway.

Harry immediately recognized what she was going to do, and sprinted after her to stop her. She was fast, but Harry was faster. He caught her arm and whirled her around, her eyes widening in fear before she realized that it was only Harry, not a death eater coming to search her.

"Where are you going?" He demanded. He kept holding her arm, unexplainably wanting her near.

"Somebody has to get our wands back. Even if we made it out, we'd be sitting ducks just waiting for them to ambush us. Face it, Harry, we're powerless without them." Ginny pointed out.

"I know that! But our focus right now is getting us all out of here safely!" Harry ordered.

"And MY focus is getting our means of attack back!" Ginny shot back.

"Listen, Ginny, I've got a plan and the entire place is going to blow very shortly. I can't do that knowing that you might still be inside." Harry said.

"The wards will be down for maybe another five minutes. Give me that long, I will have gotten our wands and apparated myself out. I can do this, Harry." Ginny argued.

Harry's eyes softened. He didn't want her to go- he'd always held a soft spot for her, perhaps because she was his best friend's little sister. He protected her like a brother, he always had. But he also knew that she was strong, and didn't necessarily need protection all the time. Sometimes, she needed to stand on her own.

"Take this with you." Harry gave her the watch that was their portkey. "If you sense that danger is coming, get out of there, no matter what, okay? And be careful. Please, please be careful…" Harry released her arm, and she sped off into the distance.

Five minutes. Five long agonizing, deadly minutes was all that he could give her. Merlin, he'd never forgive himself if she didn't make it out of there alive. If she was still trapped inside when he destroyed the place, it would be just like he had killed her himself.

Harry shook his head and tried to shift his focus. She'd made her choice, and there was no going back now. Five minutes to find Charlie. He had to find Charlie, or the entire plan would be torn to shreds.

The seconds ticked painfully by as his pulse hammered through his system. His adrenaline powered him on, allowing him to dodge wayward spells and sneak by unsuspecting death eaters who were supposed to be searching for him. The oil on the floor was perilously slick, and he had seen more than a few death eaters fall.

He tried to look for Charlie's tall, broad frame, but it was so similar to the other figures that he couldn't ever be completely sure. Every time he was sure he had found Charlie, the hooded figure would turn and reveal his death eater mask. Finally, Harry's gaze was drawn to a figure that seemed agitated. They tried desperately to hide it, but they occasionally couldn't help but wring their hands or scratch their forearms. It was almost as if that person just couldn't calm down, and had to have a cigarette…

Finally, Harry had found him.

Harry approached the figure, attempting to be nonchalant. "Give me your lighter." He said as quietly as possible, hoping that no one else would hear him.

Harry inconspicuously walked behind Charlie, and Charlie slipped his lighter into his hidden hand. Perfect, Harry thought. Everything was going according to plan.

Except for Ginny. Had it been five minutes? It felt like forever. He couldn't wait any longer. This was it.

He ignited the small flame, and dropped it to the oil-soaked floor.

The scorching hot fire grew so tall it licked the ceiling, and spread faster than the most untamable wildfire. Most of the death eaters were too surprised to cast shield spells in time, and were swallowed in the hungry flames. Harry's companions escaped unscathed, thanks to the shield spells from the older Weasleys. They were able to find each other by simply looking for the cloaked figures who weren't panicking.

"Wow, good thing we had those shield spells, huh?" Ron observed.

"Yes, good thing, indeed." Jack's voice spoke from behind them. The party whirled around to see him holding a cloaked figure roughly around their waist, his wand aimed towards where their head would be.

Harry's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. The last Weasley, the only one who wasn't in their party, the one that he had so foolishly let go…

BOOOOM!

A vicious explosion tossed the steel fortress like it was a mere child's toy. Harry fell most un-hero-like on his bum, and as he glanced around he realized that most of his party didn't fare too well either.

Somehow, Jack had managed to stay standing. He didn't even seem shaken, still clutching his captive tightly. "I suppose your shield spells endured that first explosion, but the next will surely destroy them. The first shell only held a remnant of its oil capacity, but the second one is full, I assure you. I suppose that means your time is running out…"

"Harry, you have to get out of here!" Ginny yelled from inside her cloak.

Jack tore her hood from her face, revealing his prisoner to the group.

"We won't leave without you, Ginny!" Harry replied. He had no idea how he'd save her, but he knew that he couldn't just leave her with this creep.

"Why do you insist on stealing my women, Harry? Why, this one may even be more beautiful than Hermione. Just leave us be." Jack possessively pulled Ginny closer and nuzzled her neck, drinking in her brother's looks of rage with sheer pleasure.

"LET HER GO!" Harry unleashed a feral growl.

"Harry, just leave! There's nothing you can do, he's won! I'll be fine." Ginny argued.

Harry shook his head. "No! Not now, not ever!"

"Dear Harry, all we're asking for is some quiet time. I just want to… get to know her…" Jack sneered as his hand traveled across Ginny's waist, loosening his grip just a slight amount. Harry felt arms pulling him back before he even realized that he had moved.

Ginny took advantage of the moment. Jack's attempt at making her brothers and Harry angry forced him to loosen his grip just enough for her to wriggle free. She wouldn't have much time, but she'd have enough for one spell. She whipped out her wand and yelled a variation on the apparition spell that Harry had never heard of. A blue light enveloped the party and the last thing Harry saw was Jack's expression of sheer shock and anger, and Ginny's look of… he didn't know. Was it fear? Was it bravery? Was it even… love?

He felt the familiar tug of apparition, and, within moments, the group was piled in a rather unceremonious heap in the living room of the Burrow. Six bodies struggled with one another, each one trying to get their bearings and shouting incoherent phrases concerning the battle.

"I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL KILL HIM!"

"Ministry brat? Such a derogatory title…"

"…need a cigarette… need a cigarette…"

"BOOM! I love explosions!"

"That was really good thinking with the lighter, Harry! Great work!"

The party began to dismantle themselves from each other. He saw all the familiar faces, Bill, Charlie, Percy and Ron…

"Gotta find the traitors, gotta find the traitors, could be one of us, gotta find the traitors…"

Harry's heart caught in his throat. He did a quick count- there were six of them in the living room. They had started with eight people, but then Fred left, then they acquired Hermione, but then she and George both left, and Ginny had been taken prisoner, so that meant…

Five. There should only be five of them.

Harry's eyes turned slowly to the sixth member, the death eater mask staring back at him blankly.


	11. Chapter 11

A Christmas Wish- Chapter 11

The death eaters were a cold and calloused breed. They viewed life as a cold wisp of winter air – fleeting, short, meaningless. After years and years of training in how to exterminate life most efficiently, they had become desensitized to the true beauty and value in everyday life. Their lives were based on a simple system of punishments and rewards- no gray areas, no exceptions.

And the punishments were severe enough to terrify them into never considering disobeying again.

Death eaters were terrifying, heartless, cruel, dangerous.

That is what Charlie, Harry, Percy, Bill, and Ron had been taught from their earliest years, it was one of their most solid beliefs.

However, when they tore off the death eater mask of their unidentified sixth member and saw the frail, shaking form of a teenage girl and green eyes filled with terror, all of those morals and beliefs were suddenly thrown into a whirlwind of doubt.

"Pansy?" Ron exclaimed.

Pansy frantically glanced around the room. They were all staring at her like she was some kind of freak show, something they had never seen before up close. It was unnerving, quite frankly. One of the few nice things about being a death eater was the anonymity. Nobody looked too closely, because truly, nobody wanted to know who you were. You could be their friend from years past, the one they thought would do more with their lives than simply destroy others. It was a universal understanding- anonymity made it easier to be cruel and ruthless. Being stared directly in the face for the first time in years was enough to make even her cringe.

Pansy quickly swallowed her fear. She had to appear in control, and as intimidating as she possibly could. She didn't get this far by withering every time somebody got too close.

"Great. It's you people." She observed. "I don't suppose you'd just let me go?"

Just then Mrs. Weasley scurried into the living room, breathless from tending to Hermione for the past several minutes. Immediately her eyes latched on to Pansy's. She saw the sunken cheeks, the dark eye sockets, and her maternal instincts overrode the instincts that told her there was clearly a predator in the house.

"Well, dear, you look famished!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

There were few moments that had ever truly surprised Pansy Parkinson. She could count them with the fingers on her left hand, actually. However, if she had to guess, she'd say this one topped them all.

"Quickly, come into the kitchen, I'll make you something!" Mrs. Weasley bustled over and yanked Pansy up by her hands, dragging her to the kitchen nearby. Harry and the rest of the Weasleys simply stood in the living room, dumbfounded at Mrs. Weasley's seemingly endless hospitality.

"Now you just sit there on that stool, sweetie, and take off that wretched cloak. You look like you've been through the wringer, just sit back and relax." Mrs. Weasley instructed as she hummed around the kitchen, searching for edibles. Pansy sat, but she didn't take off her cloak. It was a comfort thing, ironically.

"Now, honey, when was the last time you ate?" Mrs. Weasley asked conversationally.

Pansy was silent for a minute. It had been a while, that was true. Eating wasn't exactly a favorable death eater pastime. She had gotten used to it over the years. It was just another part of life.

"Um, it's been a few days…"

"A FEW DAYS?" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Child, you must be starving! It's a miracle you haven't collapsed! Good thing there are plenty of servings!" Her blue eyes widened in astonishment and her head shook with worry.

Huh. Not many people had ever bothered worrying about her, and yet this woman, who was technically her enemy-

"Oh, it's no big deal. It happens." Pansy shrugged it off.

"Well, it will NOT happen as long as you're here, young lady! We need to get some meat on your bones." Mrs. Weasley declared as she set a plate of warm, steaming roast with carrots and potatoes in front of Pansy. Pansy had to admit, it smelled delicious. She had never had a meal cooked for her by someone who wasn't feeding her simply because they wanted to earn their paycheck.

"Wait, wait, wait a minute… I'm staying here?" Pansy asked incredulously.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Well, of course, dear! We can't have you strolling on back to your death eater friends and gossiping all about our home. We're taking you prisoner. Enjoy your roast!" Mrs. Weasley scurried away to attend to Hermione, leaving Pansy frozen in surprise.

Pansy shook her head, trying to dislodge the surprise factor. The mother was crazy, whatever.

But, lord, could the crazy mother cook a mean roast! Pansy had never tasted anything like it. Before she knew it she had devoured the entire plate. Perhaps she was hungrier than she initially thought. Her stomach growled loudly, demanding more of the fabulous food.

She figured she was more than welcome to have seconds, and, even if she wasn't, she was going to eat them anyways. She had trained herself to eat as much as possible at once, because there was no telling when her next meal would be. She located the rest of the roast in the fridge and her eyes immediately widened at the size of the enormous pot. It was nearly as large as the potions cauldrons in Hogwarts, back when she went there. It was a miracle that it could all fit in the fridge. She scooped out a couple of hearty servings and whispered a warming spell, taking her serving back to the table.

She began to delve into her second serving with vigor when one of the Weasley clones strolled down the stairs. Lord, they were all the same. Obnoxious red hair, judgmental blue eyes, endless devotion to wizardry and opposition to Voldemort. Disgustingly loyal to their friends and fight to the death and blah blah blah. If you knew one, you knew them all.

This particular Weasley clone looked in the fridge, most likely hungry as well. He grabbed a cup of pudding and shut the door behind him, turning to face her. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, delving into his pudding.

"Funny, you don't look like a seven foot tall, terrifying and powerful death eater. I heard there was one in this kitchen eating mum's roast, have you seen her?" Charlie teased.

Pansy couldn't help but crack a small smile, which she immediately regretted. She wasn't supposed to be having fun! She had to put on her tough girl exterior. "So they're already talking about me, huh?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, we can't just send you back." Charlie chomped down upon a glob of pudding as he tried to gather his thoughts. "But we don't know what to do with you if you'd stayed. They were talking about tactics and strategy and advantages and… well… it made me hungry. Talking like that is exhausting, you know."

"I guess," Pansy nodded as she chewed a carrot. "You know, I could really get used to this prisoner thing. Especially if I get fed like this."

Charlie smiled. "Trust me, even if an entire legion of soldiers were living in this house, not one of them would ever go hungry. Mum's like that. You know how some people were just born to be mothers? I think my mum's one of them."

Pansy avoided his eyes. Honestly, she didn't know that some people were born to be mothers, like Charlie said. She didn't know that parents were loving and caring. She had never experienced that. She had always thought that people who had mushy gushy lovey dovey families were just kidding themselves, and felt sorry for them because they lived their entire lives believing in something that didn't exist. No parent she had ever met acted with love or adoration toward their child.

Well… not until now, anyways.

"You know, quite frankly, I really don't get this." Pansy suddenly said. Charlie paused his pudding party to look at her. "I mean… I'm a prisoner. Aren't you supposed to be torturing me to death? Cutting off my fingers for information? Locking me up and never feeding me? This isn't how it's done!"

"Not all prisons are steel and concrete." Charlie stated simply.

"Wait… what? What is that supposed to mean?" Pansy demanded.

"Can't stick around, out of pudding!" Charlie showed her his empty plastic cup, remnants of the chocolate pudding still clinging to the edges. He threw the cup in the trashcan from his seat, making it through the plastic rim in the first throw. Moments later he had thundered back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

As much as Pansy wanted to go after him and force him to explain himself, her survival mechanism forced her to devour as much roast as she possibly could. So, for now, the cryptic words of Weasley Clone #2 would have to wait.

XXXXXXXXX

George guarded Hermione's door like a goalkeeper. "I told you, Fred, she doesn't need to see you right now! She's hurt, she's barely conscious, she's delusional, she's-"

"She's also calling out my name in her sleep! I can hear it from my own room! She's terrified, I should be in there-" Fred tried to duck under George's left arm, but George was too fast for him.

"You also should have been with her when we went to save her! How infuriated do you think she's going to be when she realizes that you ran away when she needed you the most? She cannot handle those intense emotions right now. She needs her rest, and seeing you will only agitate her!"

Fred tried vainly to shove George aside, but his twin was too determined to move. "I just have to see her! I just need to see with my own eyes that she's here and she's okay. I won't even say anything!"

"Fred, you will get your chance! Just give her time and space. She's had a long day, and just needs to sleep it off." George argued.

"Fine, fine. You're right. I'll talk to her when she's feeling better." Fred finally relented, and started walking away.

"Good. I knew you'd understand eventually, Fred." George walked with him to the end of the stairs, deciding to keep his twin company and hopefully keep his mind off of Hermione.

"PSYCH!" Fred yelled as he took off in the opposite direction, towards Hermione's room.

"Fred, get back here! FRED!" George tried to turn as quickly as Fred, but he wasn't quick enough to catch him before he reached the doorway.

Fred frantically glanced around the room. Pansy stood in a corner with a damp bloodstained washcloth in her hand, looking more than slightly out of place. Mrs. Weasley sat on Hermione's bed, casting healing spells on her injured arm. Hermione herself lay on the bed, hair a mass of untamed curls, face pale and weary.

But her eyes were just as fiery as they had always been.

"Fred! What happened to George? He was supposed to keep you out!" Hermione exclaimed as angrily as her hoarse voice would allow her.

"I just wanted to see you, I had to see for myself that you were okay!" Fred stepped cautiously into the room.

"I am obviously NOT okay, thanks to you! Why was it that everyone came, Fred, everyone except you? Why?" She accused, her eyes full of anger and just a touch of pain.

"Hermione, we were facing death eaters! I couldn't just… I've never… Ron and Harry do this sort of thing all the time, and-"

"But you PROMISED me, Fred! All those words, all those times you said you'd do anything, anything for me, but what did it all mean? I should have known you were a liar! I should have seen that you were just making up crap to try and win me over! I should have- ohhh, oh, ow, ow, ow!" Hermione's rant ended in mid-sentence as her head concussion suddenly decided that she was getting more angry than it wanted her to.

"Hermione, are you-" Fred instinctively reached for her.

"Fred, I think you should go." Hermione barely whispered. She closed her eyes in exhaustion. "I just… I can't handle you right now. Just go."

Mrs. Weasley echoed Hermione's words. "Fred, dear, just give her time. She can't handle this stress right now." Mrs. Weasley stroked Hermione's mass of hair in a maternal gesture.

Despite their warnings that he should leave, Fred remained rooted to the spot by Hermione's angry words. He knew she'd be disappointed, but actually seeing her so hurt and so angry all at once… and knowing that it was all his fault, and that anything he did now could only make it worse… it was almost too much for him to take.

"Come on, mate. It's time to go." George tugged at his brother's arm.

The spell on Fred finally broke, and he whirled out of the room. Everything he did just wasn't enough for her. What did she expect, anyways? Yeah, he screwed up. Yeah, he didn't go through with his promises, but he came to apologize and she just threw everything in his face. Merlin, that hurt…

Fred viciously shook his head. He didn't even care anymore. All she did was hurt him. She dumped her burden of Jack on him, telling him that he was abusive before telling anyone else and expecting him to do something about it. Who did she think he was? He wasn't bulletproof, he wasn't a hero. But he wanted to be, and he listened to her problems just for her sake. And then when he asked if she would date him, not exactly a big favor after all the strings he'd pulled for them to go horseback riding together, she turned him down and wouldn't even tell him why! All he did was apologize and apologize and try to make up for things that were part of his nature. He couldn't do this anymore. Fine, whatever Hermione wanted, Hermione would get.

She wanted her space? She would get space. Oh, she would get plenty of space.

He didn't care. He couldn't. Caring hurt too much.

He wouldn't care anymore, not for her. Never again.

XXXXXX

"I can't believe he honestly had the nerve…" Hermione quietly fumed. "After all the things he said to me, all the lies, all the promises…"

Pansy rolled her eyes. Listening to Hermione's ranting and raving about her love life for the past hour and a half had left her a little short on patience. Granted, Hermione had every right to be angry, Pansy just didn't think it was quite as big of a deal as Hermione was making it.

"I mean, yeah he apologized, but why did he have to go and do that in the first place? Why? Why did he lie to me? Why can't he just leave me alone?" Hermione continued.

"Oh, dear, you don't really want that, do you?" Mrs. Weasley asked gently as she administered more healing spells to Hermione's arm.

"Yes, yes I do. I don't think I ever want to see him again." Hermione declared assuredly.

"I understand, I suppose." Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Well, I sure don't understand." Pansy piped up.

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione turned and stared at her with shocked and indignant expressions on their faces.

Pansy set down the washcloth she had been holding, meeting them in the eye and gaining courage as she continued to speak. "I mean, Hermione, he obviously cares about you a lot! Did you not see him when he left? He looked like he was going to jump off of a cliff, all because you were upset at him. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Doesn't that show you how much he cares?"

Hermione asked suspiciously, "Why are you sticking up for him all of a sudden? You don't even like us!"

Pansy sighed. "Because it pisses me off to see you surrounded by people who obviously adore you, and all you do is lay in bed and moan about how mad you are at them. I mean, the kind of devotion Fred has for you doesn't come along every day."

"But he still broke his promise! He lied!" Hermione continued ranting.

"And you are willing to throw away what could possibly be an amazing relationship all because he's made one mistake? Life's too short to waste time resenting people. It really is."

"You don't know anything about it, Pansy! You don't know anything! You don't understand how I feel!"

"You are right about one thing, Hermione. I don't understand how you feel, because I don't know how it feels to be loved like you are. So quit whining already!"

A rather tense and awkward silence followed. Mrs. Weasley glanced around in confusion, not knowing if she should reprimand Pansy or encourage her bold and, surprisingly mature, statements. The girl was lacking in tact, but really, Mrs. Weasley couldn't deny that she had made a great point. She could tell that Hermione was silently contemplating this as well, realizing that maybe there was some wisdom to her words.

Pansy sighed. "Just… just think about what I said, okay? I didn't mean to yell and make you all angry again and whatever, but… people would kill to have what you have. Literally. Don't throw it away over something stupid." With that, Pansy strolled out of the room, needing a little bit of space.

"You know… she may have been a little forceful, but I think she may be on to something. Wonder what sorts of terrible things that girl has seen, to have such an outlook already." Mrs. Weasley observed nonchalantly.

"She may be. I just… I just want to be mad for a while, you know? I just want to be angry and have other people be angry at him with me, and resent him for hurting me. As awful as it is, it'd be so much easier than just… letting go." Hermione observed.

"I know, sweetie, I know. With Ginny being gone, I… it's hard, to keep up appearances. I'm so scared for her, and truly all I want to do is scream and wail in terror and command everyone to go look until they find her. I want to panic. It's so tempting to just… let it all out. But I know… I know that I have to be strong for her, even while I'm terrified. I have other children, and other people are counting on me. Sometimes, we aren't allowed to do the easy thing. Sometimes you have to swallow your fear and your pride and do what you know is right."

Hermione silently took her words in. Was she really being so selfish in wanting to be angry? She had confided in Fred, she'd told him her most terrible secret and he had left her when she needed him the most. But really, was that any worse than what Mrs. Weasley was going through? Was her situation truly so bad that she couldn't swallow her pride and try to fix things, before they were damaged for good?

"Mrs. Weasley, I… I think I'm feeling better." Hermione said, needing the alone time and knowing that Mrs. Weasley needed some too. "You look exhausted, truly. Go get some rest, I'll be fine for a while."

Mrs. Weasley smiled gratefully. "Well, sweetie, you know where to find me if you need anything at all." She bustled out of the room, the same bundle of energy that she had always been.

_What a remarkable woman,_ Hermione thought. _She is on the brink of losing her daughter and still she faces the world with bravery and strength._ Maybe… maybe it was time she faced her own problems, and did her best to save her own world.

XXXXXXX

Knock knock knock!

Hermione rolled over and drowsily looked at the clock. It was 7:30, she had managed to get four hours of sleep. The summer sun was setting in the distance, its brilliant fiery colors filling the room. Her head felt considerably clearer after resting, although she still felt slightly woozy. She knew she wouldn't be doing any strenuous activity anytime soon.

"Come in." She said as clearly as her groggy sleepyhead voice would allow her.

A few moments later Harry entered with a plate of roast and a glass of water. "Room service!" He called jokingly.

"Oh, Harry, I'm not sure if I'm up for eating anything…" Hermione said uncertainly.

"Well, since Mrs. Weasley is taking a nap and I have been sent to feed you in her place, I will pitch a fit and complain about how skinny you are until you agree to eat, just like she would." Harry grinned.

"Alright, alright. I'll give it a try." Hermione cautiously sat up and took the plate from Harry, slowly taking tiny bites. Harry glanced around the room, and dragged a vacant armchair to her bedside. He wrung his hands and clenched the cushioned arms, clearly appearing nervous. He glanced around the room, his eyes never quite being able to settle on one object for long.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"Well, um… I know it's silly, and Ginny's perfectly capable of taking care of herself and everything, but… she's with Jack, and I've seen what he's done to you, and I just… not that you're any worse off for it, you're a fighter and you'll make it through this, I just-"

"You're worried, aren't you?" Hermione stated simply.

"Well, yeah, I mean she's my best friend's little sister, I've known her for years, I can't just not think about her-"

"Harry, I think we both know that she's more than your best friend's ditsy, silly little sister. She's a grown woman now. Did you see the way she handled that raid? Harry, she sacrificed herself to get us out of there. She created a mass target apparition spell, something neither you nor I ever thought of. She is so much more than simply an

acquaintance, Harry, and I think she always has been."

"I know, I know… I got so angry when Jack touched her. I've never been that angry before. It was almost as if…" Harry broke off in mid-sentence, shaking his head, almost as if he was waking up from a dream. "No, no. I don't even know what I'm talking about. I couldn't, she couldn't be-"

"Harry, do you like her?" Hermione asked with obvious glee, like she had just found the correct answer to a particularly hard question.

"I can't like her, she's Ron's sister." Harry automatically responded.

"That doesn't answer my question. Try again." Hermione commanded.

"I… I…" Harry stuttered.

Suddenly a loud voice called from the hallway. "Harry, you know Hermione likes salt with her roast! You forgot to bring it up to her!"

Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance, and as their conversation came to a screeching halt at Ron's appearance, Hermione had all the answers from Harry she needed.

Moments later, Ron appeared in the doorway with a container of salt. "Hey, Hermione! I told Harry to bring this, but you know how he can be sometimes. I guess his head was just in the clouds again."

Hermione offered a weak smile. "Yeah, he's done that more and more since Ginny's been gone."

Ron's gaze softened. "Don't worry, mate. We're family, we'll get her back. We just need a lead and some plans. We're family."

Harry's shoulders sank just a little bit. He was right, they would get her out. They had to. They absolutely had to…

**A/N: A lot has happened in this chapter... introduction to some new characters, new conflict… I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and what you think is going to happen. Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

A Christmas Wish chapter 12

Hermione hated being forbidden from doing anything. She always had to be studying, learning, something, anything was better than just laying around all day. It had been a week since her accident. An entire week had passed, and still she wasn't allowed to even go outside! She demanded that her curtains and windows be kept open, so at the very least she could get some sunshine and fresh air. It wasn't quite as good as playing outside and running around, but it would do.

Hermione absently wondered if Ginny was able to have sunshine and fresh air wherever she was.

Hermione shook her head. The household wasn't the same without her, despite how much everyone tried to make it seem that way. Mrs. Weasley continued fussing over everyone, and Hermione suspected that she fussed just a little more than she usually did. She was worried about her daughter, but tried to make everyone else as comfortable as possible while she could. Harry couldn't stop fidgeting, and Hermione had seen him look increasingly weary from day to day. She suspected that he wasn't sleeping like he should be. Mr. Weasley spent more and more time at work, leaving at the crack of dawn and returning long after everyone had gone to bed. Hermione thought that maybe going to work was helping him to forget.

She sighed. She wished she could do something to get Ginny out, but they had absolutely no leads. The only location she knew where to find Jack was the warehouse, and that had been destroyed. So what could they do? She knew that the logical thing would be to drill Pansy for locations, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn't be a big fan of abusing someone else's child simply to get information. Hermione didn't really know what she thought about Mrs. Weasley's willingness to accept Pansy. She had had plenty of time to think it over, but truly, she couldn't find the answer. She could only hope that Mrs. Weasley was making the right decision by letting her live comfortably instead of locking her up.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she heard familiar footsteps nearing her room. She recognized those boots, and she'd recognize that gait anywhere-

"Fred?" She called out, hoping against hope that it would be him this time.

"George." George called as he appeared in the doorway.

Hermione was disappointed, but she tried not to let it show. "Oh, my mistake. Hello, George!"

George greeted her in return, trying not to notice the way her face fell every time she realized that he wasn't his twin.

"I was just wondering how you were feeling. Are you getting better, do you think?" George asked awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that Fred would do the exact same thing when he was nervous- reach up with his right hand and scratch an invisible itch. "I'm doing better, thanks. I think I may be able to go outside in a day or two."

George nodded. "That's good, that's good. Do you need anything? A glass of water, maybe?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "No, no water, thanks. Although… there is something you could do for me."

George replied instantly, "Anything."

Hermione blushed a tad. "It's a little embarrassing, actually. I, um… I know it's kind of lame and I should really just go talk to him myself, but… could you… I mean, if you want to… could you maybe… um…"

"Hermione. Just spit it out already!"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Fred hasn't been to see me since we had that argument. I just… I want to know how he's doing, and if maybe… maybe you could talk him in to coming to see me?"

George sighed. It was about the other twin, again. "I'll talk to him, but he's a pretty stubborn guy."

"Please, George. It would mean a lot." Hermione plead.

George shrugged. "I'll give it a shot, but don't get your hopes up."

Hermione smiled a brilliant smile. Despite knowing that his actions would help his own competition, he loved knowing that for once he was the one who gave her that smile.

"Thank you so much!" She exclaimed.

George's cheeks turned just a hint of pink. "Aw, it's no biggie. I'll go see what I can do. You rest up and feel better, okay?"

"Okay!" Hermione smiled another thousand watt smile. George hated knowing that his own brother was the reason for those smiles, when nobody else could even come close to making her that happy.

George exited the room and went to find his other half, the only one who could truly make her smile.

XXXXXXX

"Hey, kiddo, you hungry?" A voice called from below the tree house that Pansy had decided to inhabit.

Pansy glanced down from her woodsy lair, her eyes resting on Weasley Clone #2. He smiled a goofy grin and waved, then pointed at a plate of roast. What was it with these people and food? Couldn't a girl skip a meal and get some alone time every once in a while?

"Sure, um… come on up." Pansy said as she slammed her journal shut and pushed it to the side. She readjusted the lantern so that it gave more light, the sun had set long ago. Sometimes all she needed was a pen, some paper, and a hint of a dream, and she could escape for hours without realizing that any time had gone by at all.

Charlie climbed up the tree house within moments. He set the plate of food in front of her, somehow managing to keep all its contents in place despite the perilous climb. He hoisted himself up through the small hole in the floor and leaned against the opposite wall, his legs dangling nonchalantly down the square hole from which he had come.

"Wow… I haven't been up here in forever." Charlie observed. "The spiders sure have gone to town with this one…" he watched as a colony of the insects swarmed towards Pansy's plate of food. Pansy quickly snatched it up before any of the precious comestibles could be taken.

"You know, we eat dinner as a family whenever we can. It might be weird or whatever, but you're… you're welcome to join us if you like." Charlie offered.

Pansy stopped in mid-bite. These people continued to astound her, each and every day. She gingerly set her plate back down, trying to gather her thoughts and choose her words so they didn't sound ungrateful.

"Not that I don't appreciate all of this, because I do, I really do, I just… I don't understand why you would extend this much hospitality towards me. I'm your enemy, aren't I? Shouldn't I be ostracized and tormented, locked up and treated like an animal?"

Charlie cracked a grin. "You've been doing a pretty good job of ostracizing yourself lately, without any of our help. How long would you say you've been out here?"

Pansy shrugged it off. "Yeah, I've been out here for a few hours, but… Hermione and I kind of got in a fight, I don't know. It's not important."

Charlie looked curious, but would ask later. "Well, if you say so. We had a discussion when you first arrived, me, Bill, Percy, Harry, Mrs. Weasley, and a very disoriented Hermione. We were trying to decide what to do with you. I kind of got tired of it and went down to get some pudding, remember? I'm not going to lie to you, most of them wanted to lock you up. They thought you were dangerous, and said you should be treated as such."

Pansy shrank into the corner just a tad. It was unnoticeable for anyone who wasn't observant, but the behavior didn't escape Charlie's notice.

Charlie continued, "But then Mum started saying that you were more than just a death eater, you were a person, with parents and siblings. She said that she couldn't bear to disfigure someone else's child, to destroy a family all for the sake of a war. She said that, if… if her own children ever were to be taken… she'd want them treated with dignity and respect. Regardless of who won, regardless of who was right and who was wrong… she couldn't bear to put another family through that kind of pain."

"Wow. That's… that's very admirable of her." Pansy observed.

"Yeah. It was that much more powerful too, because Ginny, her own child, had just been taken, and we don't know how she's being treated. Is she hurt? Is she warm enough? Is she hungry? And then we realized that somewhere, your family was probably going through the same thing. And we could only hope that by treating you well, then maybe by the end of all this, at least one more family will still have their child. No parent should ever have to face that kind of worry, she said."

They won't be worried, Pansy thought to herself. Still, it was a nice thought. To think that someone was waiting up for her, glancing at the clock and wringing their hands when yet another hour passed and she still hadn't called…

"I'm grateful. But you know, you're putting yourselves at risk by giving me this much freedom. Without a cage or anything, I could simply get up and walk away. You guys would never know. I could just go straight back to the death eaters and tell them all your secrets." Pansy pointed out.

"Yeah, um, you trying to leave wouldn't work out so well. For you, anyways." Charlie said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" Pansy asked, munching away at her roast.

"Why don't you give it a shot? See what happens. Just keep in mind that no one's around here for miles, and should something happen to you and you tried to scream for help, well… chances are, nobody would hear you." Charlie said.

Pansy wasn't fazed by his threats or intimidating words. "I may just take my chances. My family would love to see me again," she lied.

Charlie sighed, "Pansy, we are a generous group of people. But that doesn't mean we're stupid. That doesn't mean that we don't have you under constant surveillance. You are a prisoner, don't ever forget that."

Pansy scowled as she devoured another piece of roast. "Fine, whatever." She scooted a little farther into the corner, the light from the lantern dancing across her face.

Charlie stretched his legs a bit. He hated playing the bad guy, he really did, but he kept getting this feeling that Pansy saw them all as incompetent rednecks with zero intelligence. Sure, they weren't purebloods, but that didn't make them stupid. He wanted to prove to her that they were more than that.

Charlie shook his head. "So, anyways, what's this about a fight with Hermione?"

Pansy looked a little startled, almost as if she was surprised he was still there. She finished chewing a particularly delectable potato and set her plate down, then proceeded to recap the fight. She didn't feel particularly drawn to Weasley Clone #2, but she figured as long as he was there, he'd probably hear about the fight anyways. It was best to hear it from her, instead of some exaggerated version from someone else.

Charlie listened patiently while she explained, paying especially close attention to what Pansy had told Hermione. Charlie didn't say anything at the end of her story, choosing to let Pansy add on anything that she personally wanted to say.

Sure enough, after the narration was over, Pansy scooted out of the corner just a tad. She turned towards him for the first time since she had met him, a sign that she was truly involved in the conversation. The lantern light continued to dance off of her form, most of it absorbed by the black cloak that she had still refused to take off.

"I mean, I know you guys all think we death eaters are the same. I know that you see us as heartless and cruel, but… that's not always how it is. Yes, violence is a big part of our lives, I won't try and deny it. I don't secretly believe that what we do is good, and is helping society. I know that it's terrible, and many of us are terrible people. But… but that doesn't mean that we don't fall in love."

Charlie gazed at her thoughtfully. She looked back at him, holding his eye just a split second shorter than she had cared to before. Could it be that she was beginning to feel more comfortable around them, and would maybe start to open up about more of her life as a death eater?

Pansy continued, "I mean, it doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's the greatest feeling in the world. Knowing that in a world of darkness and pain, you can bring joy to someone, knowing that that person would worry if you were ever gone, knowing that they would give you the most bone-crushing hug when they saw you again… simple things like that mean the world to us."

Charlie remained silent. He wanted to see how much she would tell him, how many secrets she would divulge. If he listened close enough, he could learn something truly valuable about the death eaters and their strategy. Maybe it could be used in the fight against them.

"When two people love each other, I mean truly, honestly love each other… their entire world changes. You fight harder, you smile again, you laugh again, you have hope. Suddenly the lonely nights when everything you've ever done comes back in waves of dark guilt, you have someone to hold you and tell you its okay. It gives you strength to face all the horrible things you have to do, and to take the punishments when you fail.

"But, of course, with our lifestyle, it never lasts. Two people have less chance of surviving than just one lonely individual. Whether one was killed in combat, or disappointed lord Voldemort and was executed as an 'example,' or the other was given to a loyal follower as a wife, or consort, or whatever… it never lasts. So we hold on to it while we can, and we appreciate every single precious moment. We fight for it and we preserve it as much as we can, because it's all we have."

"And that's why you reacted to Hermione the way you did?" Charlie asked.

"Well, of course! That bloody Gryffindor has more people that love her than anybody I've ever known. She easily has ten times the devotion most of us have, and she doesn't even know it. She doesn't even care! She'd just throw it all away, over some stupid argument! She doesn't… she doesn't even open her eyes and see what's right in front of her."

"Maybe… she will, it just might take time." Charlie offered. Hermione was a smart girl, if good advice was given to her she didn't just throw it away.

"Maybe." Pansy replied. She shifted a little, fidgeting with the end of her cloak. It seemed like she felt uncomfortable, like suddenly Charlie knew too much about her. It made her feel vulnerable.

Charlie sensed that it was time for him to go. She was avoiding his eyes, gazing on the wooden walls of the tree house. He scooted towards the exit, the small hole in the floor, moving just a tad closer to her. She noticed, and tried to nonchalantly back away.

"Well, you're welcome to sleep out here since you like it so much, but there's still a guest bedroom open. You can use that too, if you like." He said as he slid out the hole and planted his feet on the tree. He grabbed the now empty plate that he had brought to Pansy, and deftly dropped the remaining distance to the ground.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Pansy replied.

"Night," Charlie muttered as he walked away.

XXXXXXX

"All she wants to do is talk, man. She misses you, it's painfully obvious." George argued from his perch on the recliner. They had been at this argument for hours, and neither one had come to a conclusion. The sun had long set, and the flickering light of the TV provided the only light in the room.

"And I told you, I'm done playing her games. I tried to be what she wanted me to be and it just wasn't enough. I'm done." Fred argued from the couch. He was currently absorbed in a game of Rock Band, and was missing a few notes due to his diverted attention.

"I dunno, Fred," Charlie said from his spot near the window. "I mean, if you really like her, you don't want to just throw that away, do you? Maybe she wants to work it out."

Fred argued, "I'm just so tired of this. I tried so hard for so long and got nothing out of it, you know? And then I mess up once, I fall short only once, and she goes postal on me. I just don't think I can take that kind of stress every day."

"Fred, pay attention! This is the easiest song on the game and you are missing over half of the notes. We are all going to fail if you don't pick it up. We aren't here to play Dr. Phil, we are here on a mission!" Percy ordered.

"I can't believe we ever wondered why he was made into a Prefect," Fred observed.

"Hey! I resent that." Percy replied, raising his voice so that it could be heard over his own drum solo.

"Oh no! Percy's resentment is making me miss even more notes…" Fred mercilessly teased.

"Would you stop that?" Percy barked.

"Do you think it'll be cold out tonight?" Charlie said suddenly, breaking up the commotion.

Fred and Percy looked at each other in confusion. What an awkward time to ask a question.

"Um, well, it's summer, so it's probably not too cold. Why?" Bill answered for them, never missing a beat of his solid bass performance in the game.

"No particular reason." Charlie answered as he glanced out the window.

"What are you even looking at? There's nothing out there but the tree house." Fred asked.

"Oh, just thinking of maybe taking a walk if it isn't too cold, ya know…" Charlie made up an answer.

"Whatever, dude." Fred answered, slightly confused by Charlie's strange behavior.

"You know, Fred… you really should go talk to Hermione," Charlie said after a slight pause. "I mean, maybe she's changed her mind about all of this. You guys really like each other, and is it worth throwing away what could be a great relationship just because you got in one fight?"

Fred looked at him with a slightly confused expression on his face. "Where is all this older brother wisdom coming from?"

"Oh, I dunno. I've just been doing some thinking lately." Charlie answered. "But really, plenty of people would kill to have what you have. I mean… just think about it."

Fred shook his head, "You know, I've gone back to her in the past. I've apologized over and over and over and things just keep happening. Maybe we just weren't meant to be anything other than friends."

George threw up his hands in mock praise. "That's what I've been telling you from the very beginning! It was a bad idea to go after her. But did you listen to me? Noooo, you went after her anyways. After all the trouble it was, maybe you and her were never meant to be together."

"Yeah. Maybe." Fred said glumly, his eyes solely focused on the game. He didn't want to think about it anymore. He just didn't want to care. This was too much stress for one girl, even if she was important to him. He just wanted to move on with his life and act like nothing had ever happened.

George always thought he'd be happier when this moment finally came. When he finally got to say, "I told you so" to Fred's face. When he was the one who was right, when he got to gloat for once. And despite how hard he tried to be happy about his own silent victory, he just couldn't shake the fact that his own brother was heartbroken. His other half was hurting, and didn't even want to chase the one who could heal his pain anymore.

Suddenly, George didn't know what to feel.


	13. Chapter 13

A Christmas Wish chapter 13

Ginny awoke to a powerful throbbing in her head. Her entire brain painfully pulsed and shuddered with every breath she took. What was going on? Where was she? She groggily moved her arm, the cold surface beneath her gave her a start. Her brain whirred into action, and her memories came soaring back. There was a huge warehouse, some missing wands, Jack holding her tightly, and Harry disappearing before her eyes…

Then the real pain had started. All she remembered was that her wand had been yanked out of her hand and a sharp, excruciating pain had shot through her. A cruciatus curse, perhaps? She didn't know, she'd never had to endure one before. She vaguely remembered being pulled by someone, someone with deathly cold hands. They were cruel, those hands. Their grip was relentless and their yank was demanding. They didn't stop even when she fell and skinned her knees, they just kept pulling and pulling. She also recalled the slamming and locking of a door, but everything in between was merely a blur.

_At least I'm alive,_ she thought to herself. She could have easily lost her life, considering the type of people she was dealing with. Death eaters were cruel, terrible people, and never thought twice about eliminating someone who was against them. Maybe they had some other kind of purpose for her to fulfill, some reason for keeping her alive…

Whatever that reason was, she didn't intend to find out. She had to get out of here, even if she was injured. She groggily opened her eyes to see what her surroundings were, but nothing met her gaze. Her heart skipped a couple of beats when she blinked several times, and still nothing appeared.

Did they blind her?

She frantically reached up and her fingertips found her eyes, whole and undamaged. No, she wasn't blind. A sigh of relief escaped her lips and her heart began to slow down to its usual pace. They had simply locked her in a dark room, so far away from all light that nothing could reach it.

She gingerly began to explore on her hands and knees, feeling the ground wherever she went. There was a bandage on her left hand, which was odd, she thought. Why would they bother to bandage her hand if they were just going to hurt her? Why would they heal her right after dealing her harm?

Whatever, she thought to herself. She could worry about that later, after she had gotten out of here and met up with her friends and family again.

From what Ginny could learn from exploring the room, it was a rectangular shape. It was maybe ten feet by ten feet, not particularly large. She discovered a plate of food and a glass of some liquid, but she didn't touch it for fear of it being poisoned. She couldn't find a niche in the smooth walls, so she knew there wasn't a door anywhere, unless it was in the ceiling.

_That would make sense,_ she thought to herself. _That way their prisoners would be unable to leave unless they apparated out, which is impossible since they wouldn't have a wand._

Ginny sighed. That also meant that there was no way out for her, unless someone came in to get her first. Surely they would come in to feed her, since they had bothered to leave a plate in the first place. All she had to do was wait until that time came, and devise her escape plan as best as she could.

She sat up against the cold, stone wall, her head throbbing viciously as she did so. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying in vain to fight off the biting cold that came from all directions. She tried to think of home, tried to think of her friends and family to keep the terror and despair at bay. She did her best to get comfortable, but knew that it would be a long wait.

XXXXXXX

_I should have listened to Weasley Clone #2,_ Pansy thought to herself. The tree house did indeed prove to be quite uncomfortable, despite the fact that it had been her bed for nearly a week now. It was chillier than she had expected, although someone had brought her a blanket in the middle of the night. Sure, she had dealt with worse than chilly sleeping conditions before, but it was hard to sleep like that when she knew that a warm mattress was waiting for her inside.

The house was dark, which should have frightened Pansy a little, but she was used to the nighttime. Most of a death eater's work was done under the cover of darkness, so sneaking into a relatively unfamiliar house in the middle of the night really wasn't as intimidating as it might have been for someone else. If she had to guess she'd say it was around three in the morning, and hopefully no one else would be awake. Maybe she could slip out in the morning before anyone woke up, and go back to her tree house of isolation.

She slid the glass door open, trying to make as little noise as possible. _They didn't even keep the door locked, _she noticed. _Either they were stupid, or they had some other kind of defense laid around the house… perhaps a ward that only let certain people in…_

She closed the door behind her, making sure that she made as little noise as possible. She crept around the kitchen, keeping her arms slightly outstretched so she didn't accidentally knock anything over or bump into any particularly pointy corners. She kept the blanket clutched tightly in her left arm, still not knowing who had actually given it to her.

She was just about to round the corner to the living room when the front door suddenly opened. _That's weird,_ she thought to herself. _Surely everyone was asleep at this point. Who could it be?_

She stayed hunched behind the corner, seeking shelter in the kitchen, her hands clutching the blanket tighter than ever. If it was an intruder, well, she knew how to take care of them. But what if it wasn't?

Suddenly the living room light flickered on and the intruder stopped in his tracks. Pansy heard vicious footsteps from the hallway above. Whoever this person was, they were about to get a not-so-friendly welcoming from someone else. Pansy hunched just a little more behind the corner, ready to spring out of there if they decided to move into the kitchen.

"Where have you been? Do you realize that it's nearly three o'clock in the morning?" Mrs. Weasley accused. Her voice was clear and accurate, it sounded like she had been awake for hours.

"We've just been really busy at work…" Mr. Weasley replied in an exhausted voice. He sounded opposite of Mrs. Weasley, tired and worn out while she was alert.

"How dare you use that excuse again? Our daughter is missing and all you can do is talk about work!" Mrs. Weasley argued.

"We're doing the best we can at the Ministry to find her. That's the best hope we have of bringing her home! The Ministry has connections, we can find something, we just have to keep looking, dearest. I wouldn't be any good to you if I just stayed here." Mr. Weasley pointed out.

"But you would! It would do our family a world of good just to see your face around and to know that you're still fighting this with us. The children need you, Arthur." Mrs. Weasley reminded.

Pansy heard Mr. Weasley sigh, and it reminded her of just how exhausted he was. He was fighting with everything to get his daughter back, using all his resources and asking everyone he knew for information. She held the blanket closer to herself as a sort of comfort, and wished that her own parents would do the same for her.

"Molly, dear, if it looks like I've hit a stalemate in my search, then I will. I understand that you need me to be here, I understand that it's hard. But we're going to find her. We can do it together. It just so happens that we have to work in separate places to do that. Do you understand?" His voice sounded gentle and soothing.

Pansy didn't hear anything, so she assumed that Molly nodded. She felt a little awkward invading their moment, but she had never experienced anything like this between a married couple. She had never heard of them working together and truly loving and supporting each other during a crisis. In all honesty, she was intrigued as to how they would handle it.

"I need your help, Molly. I need you to stay strong for the children. I'm counting on you to take care of things here, so that I can go and look for her in the meantime. I couldn't do this without you. This entire family would fall to pieces without you."

"Oh, Arthur, what are we going to do? What if we can't find her in time? What if they… what if they kill her? What if we never see her smile again, and, oh Arthur, I'm so scared…"

"There, there…"

"I should have told her more how much I loved her. How much I always wanted a girl, and she was so much more than I could have ever asked for. I should have told her what a beautiful young woman she's become, so strong and smart. I should have… why did… why did this have to happen?"

Pansy didn't hear any words for a long time, just quiet sobbing. She listened to the two of them, both of them so broken, and was surprised to find that she was having difficulty keeping her own emotions in check.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Arthur. I can't… I can't just keep acting like nothing is wrong. It's so hard… every time I walk past her door, I just… I just want to break. But I can't. I can't let the children see. I don't know… how much longer…"

"Just a little more time, Molly. Just a little more time is all I need, okay? You're doing a great job. You're a wonderful, strong woman, and I love you."

"I love you too, Arthur, I truly do. Thank you… for doing all this. I know you must be tired."

"I'm fine, darling, I only need a nap and I'll have enough energy to go back tomorrow."

"Don't be silly, you're exhausted! Let's get you upstairs and in bed, okay?"

"Yes, Molly dear. But, really, I only need a few hours' sleep, I'm not that tired-"

"Nonsense!"

"Yes, Molly."

Pansy saw the light turn off as the couple made their way back upstairs. Both of them were so brave, and so caring and loving. Despite knowing that those whom they love could be taken away and the pain would be immense, they continued to love without reservation.

Pansy tried to fight her own emotions, tried to act like it didn't affect her. She told herself again and again that she didn't care that her parents didn't love her. She didn't love them, so what was the problem? She didn't need them, she knew that much. So why… why would she be so moved to see such a selfless love like that? She had trained herself to live without love, so why would she be so affected by it now?

Pansy shook her head. Surely it was simply because it was late and she hadn't been sleeping well. That was all. She wasn't thinking clearly. Once she got out of this place and got back to her own home, she'd have nothing to worry about. She'd be back to her same old self.

She strolled into the living room and lay down on the couch, and was asleep within minutes.

XXXXXXX

Pansy had the same strategy with sleeping as she did with eating- she took as much as she could get of it at any one point. Just like when she had eaten several servings of Mrs. Weasley's roast the day she arrived here, she managed to sleep until nearly three o'clock the following day on the couch. She wanted to be up early so that she could escape to the tree house again before anyone noticed her, but she guessed it was too late for that now.

She would have tried to sleep longer, but she heard a knocking on the door. She considered just rolling over and going back to bed, pretending to be asleep and thus excusing herself from answering the door. Before she could make any such decision, however, Weasley Clone #6 came thundering down the stairs. When he saw that Pansy was on the couch, he awkwardly glanced around, wanting to look at anything else other than her. She smirked a little, it meant they were afraid of her.

Weasley Clone #6 recovered from his momentary distraction and continued his stampede to the door. He made quick work of the front locks and swung open the door, a big grin splitting his face.

"Luna!" He exclaimed.

Oh no. He couldn't mean-

"Ron. I trust you are in good health?" Loony's spacey voice answered. She didn't sound particularly thrilled to see him, but she didn't seem like the type of person that would get easily excited.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Why don't you come in?" Weasley Clone #6 asked as he backed up, allowing her space to enter. Pansy noticed that he had a dreadfully red face, and smirked a little to herself. So Weasley Clone #6 had a bit of a crush, eh?

Loony stepped in to the house, taking in her surroundings in her usual daydreamy manner. Before long her eyes landed on Pansy, and they widened just a tad. She looked confused and just a little frightened.

_Good,_ Pansy thought to herself. _She should be frightened._

"What is she doing here?" Luna asked.

_Well, aren't you welcoming?_ Pansy thought.

"You'll have to ask mum, she can explain it better than I can," Ron sputtered.

_The only reason you don't want to explain it is because you don't agree with her,_ Pansy thought to herself as she sat up a little. It looked like she would have to explain her presence on her own.

"I'm being kept here as a prisoner, I'm just not being treated with the disrespect that most prisoners are treated with. I'm pretty lucky, actually." Pansy answered Luna's question.

"You're a death eater," Luna said, her expression unwavering and unchanging, almost as if she was discussing the weather or what they were going to have for dinner.

"Yes, I am." Pansy answered.

"Hm," Luna responded.

Pansy was intrigued by her answer. She didn't know what the girl was thinking, although most of the time nobody did.

Before Pansy really had time to consider her reaction, Mrs. Weasley came thundering down the stairs in her usual bustle of energy. A grin equal to Ron's stretched across her face when she saw Luna. She pulled Luna in for an enormous hug, no sign of last night's near breakdown showing anywhere on her face.

"Oh, Luna! It's so wonderful to have you here. We're so sorry about your father, feel free to stay as long as you like!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

Luna smiled her usual gentle and courteous smile. "Thank you."

Pansy shrugged and lay back down. As long as she was in the house, she might as well get as much sleep as she could before going back outside.

Mrs. Weasley set about getting Luna accommodated to her new home. Pansy absentmindedly wondered why Luna was staying here when she had a perfectly good home with her hare-brained father, but, hey, whatever. She was sure that she'd find out sooner or later. One more person on top of the group that already lived here wouldn't really be a big deal. It would be that much easier for her to melt into the background than before.

Mrs. Weasley led Ron and Luna through the hallway, past Ginny's room (don't think about it. Don't think about it) and past the twins' room, then past Hermione's room, then past Bill and Charlie's room. The very last door on the left was the one she chose. She pushed open the door, revealing a seldom-used, small bedroom. One window was in the corner and a single bed was pushed into the corner, the light from the window spilling onto the dusty mattress.

"It isn't much, but it's a room," Mrs. Weasley said as she started dusting the mattress with a rag and searching for blankets.

"It's very nice. Thank you," Luna answered diplomatically as she explored the room.

"Arthur's and my room is upstairs if you need anything, Ron and Percy's room is downstairs and Harry's room is downstairs as well. The kitchen is right across from the living room." Mrs. Weasley unfolded a lavender blanket and spread it across the creaky mattress, the blanket not quite long enough to completely cover it. She fluffed a pillow and put it at the head of the bed, looking experimentally at her work and not really sure as to whether she approved.

"I'm sorry we can't give you more, dear, it's just with the boys being home, and Hermione and Harry too, and now Pansy-" Mrs. Weasley started to apologize.

"This is more than enough. Truly," Luna interrupted. She was grateful for their hospitality, she really was.

"I know it's not what you're used to. You've lost so much, your poor father." Mrs. Weasley shook her head. What was happening to the world? What kind of world was it when a child was torn from their parent, a family ripped to shreds because evil people couldn't hold themselves back?

"It was a death eater, wasn't it?" Ron asked, a suddenly angry edge to his voice ringing through. Mrs. Weasley had never heard him use that protective tone before, not even with his baby sister, Ginny. Not even when she was taken…

Don't think about it.

Luna barely nodded, but it was enough to snap Mrs. Weasley back to reality. She saw her son's fists clench, and his dark eyes turn in the direction of the living room, where Pansy lay sleeping. She knew that the youngest Weasley boy was notorious for his temper. She didn't know if it was because of years of being picked on, or if it was just his personality, but she knew that he was going to have to learn to control it.

She caught his eye and vigorously shook her head when Luna glanced away. In that one gesture all of the fight seemed to deflate from Ron like a balloon. He visibly sighed, then looked at Luna, almost as if he wanted to cure her pain. He didn't want Pansy under the same roof as her, he thought it would cause Luna pain and that was the last thing he wanted. But he had received his warning, and she knew that he would behave.

She smiled a little to herself. He was a good boy.

"Well, I'll give you some time to get used to your new room. Let me know if you need anything at all, dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled at the blonde as she exited the room.

Ron shuffled his feet, not really knowing what to say now that they were alone. They had exchanged messages through the internet (muggle inventions could be really brilliant!) and he had gotten so excited about when he would be able to see her again. However, considering the circumstances of their meeting, he wasn't so sure anymore why he was so excited.

"Luna, um…" Ron started to say awkwardly.

Thankfully, Luna saved him from having to find something to fill the silence. "The girl in the living room. The one who was asleep."

Ron's eyes darkened again. "The death eater?"

"Yes, Pansy. I never noticed before, but… she seems so sad. And so broken. I wonder what must have happened to her." Luna's gaze lowered as she was lost in her own thoughts.

Ron's jaw dropped just a little bit. "How can you pity her? It's because of people like her that people like us feel pain. You can't honestly be feeling sorry for her, can you?"

Luna shook her head. "I don't know. I'm so confused, but… the depths of sorrow I saw in her eyes were remarkable. I've never… I've never seen anything like it."

Ron had grown accustomed to Luna's tendency to read people based on their physical attributions. She had convinced herself that Ron was, by nature, a very aggressive person simply because he had red hair. While it was true that he could be aggressive when he needed to be, it wasn't due to his hair color. He just figured he'd let it go this time. She was upset about her father, and was most likely looking for anything to keep her mind off of her own tragedy.

She must have been in a lot of pain, but didn't want to show it to anyone.

Ron gently touched her shoulder, her ice blue eyes met his once again. "If you ever need anything, anything at all… you know I'm here, right? I mean, if you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to listen to you, or just someone to punch when you're angry… all you have to do is ask."

Luna smiled gratefully, her eyes brightening with joy the way they did only when he was here. "Thank you. You all are so very kind. I am so lucky to be here with all of you, and to have friends as wonderful as you."

Ron grinned a little. He was glad that Luna seemed happy here, despite the situation. He really was. He just felt like she wasn't talking to anybody about what had happened to her, and she needed to get it out of her system. He was worried about her. She was doing too much, and he was right here and all she had to do was reach out and talk to him about it…

But he knew that she wasn't that type of person. She wanted to handle this all on her own, and he knew that. He just hated being on the outside.

But he smiled and acted like it didn't bother him.

XXXXXXX

Fred and George lay in their beds, both pretending to be asleep and both knowing that the other one was fully awake. They heard the exchange between their mom and dad in the kitchen, could almost feel the tension and agony in their voices. They were no strangers to stress and tension, however, with Ginny gone it had reached an all-time peak.

"Gred?" A voice croaked out, slightly groggy from being unused for the past few hours.

"Yeah, Forge?" An equally tired voice answered.

"Pansy said a funny thing the other day. She said that our house seemed a little quiet and somber, at least more than what she is used to." George muttered.

"….What?" Fred sat up and faced his twin, shocked at such an accusation. "The Weasley household has always been one that is full of noise and chaos. What could give her such an idea?"

"…I think it's time we changed that idea, Fred." George said with a smirk.

Fred smiled back as he picked up on his twin's meaning. "I think I know exactly what you mean."

XXXXXXX

Mrs. Weasley had always found that there was something about cooking meals that calmed her down. Putting her hands to work and knowing that others would benefit from her labor just gave her a good feeling, and helped her to get her mind off of other things that were going on…

She tried not to think about whether or not Ginny was fed where she was. She tried not to think about the fact that she had to prepare one less serving of food for her family. She tried to keep up appearances for her family, tried to act like Ginny's loss wasn't affecting her as much as it was. But every day that they didn't find her made it a little bit harder for her to keep up appearances.

She knew that she wasn't the only one who felt it, either. The entire household was slightly more dismal, a little more reserved and beaten down. Luna's father had been murdered. They were housing a Death Eater. Hermione and Fred had previously been close but were now constantly at odds. They were missing a family member, and missing most of their wands.

They were losing the war.

Nobody had said it outright, but everybody saw it. The only advantage they had was Harry Potter himself, and without his wand he was just a sitting duck. They had no way to stage an attack, and no way to defend themselves if an attack came to them.

Yes, things were tense. The household hadn't seen any laughter in a long time.

A loud pop caused Mrs. Weasley to jump, spilling a bit of the soup on the counter. What in the world? Was it an intruder, someone who meant to harm them?

She pulled her wand out of her pocket, knowing that she was one of the few witches in the house with a wand. It would be up to her to save everyone.

"Fred Weasley, you absolute prick!" She heard Hermione scream from the top of the stairs.

Mrs. Weasley visibly relaxed. It was just the twins, getting up to their old antics. Nothing for her to be too concerned about.

"Don't forget George! He helped too!"

"Hey, what's wrong with my hair? Why is it… why is it green…?"

"Haha, Percy, that's pretty funny! Wait… what's going on with… why is my hair purple? That's bloody brilliant!"

"It must be the gnargles… sometimes they have a tendency to-"

"Luna, stay away! Your beautiful tresses will become corrupt by the evil twins!"

"Oh, it's quite alright. I've always rather liked blue, actually."

"What the hell, blood traitor punks? What makes you think I want to be a blonde?"

"Pink doesn't really go very well with my lightning scar…"

"Fred Weasley by the time I get my wand back and get this red out of my hair, I SWEAR I will hunt you down!"

Mrs. Weasley heard a couple of pairs of feet thundering down the stairs, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who they were. She cleared out of their path as Fred and George sped through the kitchen, not even noticing one of them toss a small capsule into the pot of soup. They both cackled gleefully as they went, both of them back in their pranking element.

The two twins were followed by a horde of angry witches and wizards who looked like they had just been at a muggle rock concert. They sported hair colors of all sorts – green, purple, pink, red… every color in the spectrum. And they were all furious.

As soon as they saw the twins, they started towards them, pushing each other aside to try and get to them first. The twins ducked underneath the table, appearing like they were trying to hide from the angry horde, but in reality were trying to hide from something much messier that was on its way.

BOOOOOM!

The soup that Mrs. Weasley had been laboring over was all over the room, hanging from the ceiling, clinging to the walls, but, most importantly, all over everybody's clothes. Everyone's eyes opened in shock, looking down at themselves and other people in wonder, the stench of roast beef ripening the entire room. Fred and George fist pumped underneath the table, their prank an absolute and complete victory.

Charlie was the first one to break the silence and start laughing. He wiped soup from his eyes and doubled over, his orange hair dripping with soup every time he shook with laughter. He pointed at the other victims of the prank, saying, "You guys look absolutely ridiculous!"

His laughter was contagious. Soon, everyone was cracking up at other's appearances (except Pansy, who made it a habit not to crack up at anything, but even she had to smile a bit). Soon everyone was laughing so uproariously that Ron slipped a little on the soup and fell to the floor, landing flat on his bum. This only created more laughter, the sound like music to their ears.

"Alright, alright, let's get everyone cleaned up. Fred, George, I hope you know you won't get away with this!" Mrs. Weasley said as she prepared to scourgify the house and the kids. Despite how serious she intended the threat to be, she couldn't help but keep smiling at the sight of them all. She waved her wand and the soup was gone in an instant, however, the crazy hair colors remained.

"You know, Pans, you look kinda good as a blonde…"

"Ha, you think so? It's not really my style, so it's not gonna stick around for long…"

"Oh, it'll stick around…" Fred joked from underneath the table.

"Fred Weasley, what did you just say?" A very angry Hermione asked, her red tresses mirroring the temper that was waging within.

Fred chuckled, "Oh, don't worry Hermione. It'll wash out in, say, a month or so. And besides, you look lovely in red. You have nothing to worry about, love."

"A…a month?" Hermione spoke the words they were all thinking.

Fred and George shared a knowing smirk, then sprinted from underneath the table and ran outside. The angry horde followed within moments, yelling and screaming as they went, but all of them still with smiles on their faces. Mrs. Weasley watched as they ran around the yard, laughing and trying to beat up the twins. They were carefree kids again, finally rid of the worries and stress that had plagued them for years.

Even Hermione smiled at Fred, and she saw him smile back.

It was almost like everything was back to normal again.

Almost.


	14. Chapter 14

A Christmas Wish ch. 14

Ginny touched the watch fastened around her wrist, her last link to freedom. It was cold and dim in the darkness of the room, but the gloom didn't diminish the fact that it still held the spell to instantly teleport her back to the Burrow. She was amazed that they hadn't taken it from her yet, after all this time. The metal was old and dingy, cold and harsh, but it could still save her.

That hope had given her more reason to live than she'd thought possible.

More than once she had been tempted to activate the spell. The death eaters had tried to break her spirit, and they were getting closer every day. She'd been tempted when the death eaters tortured her, crushing her until she couldn't even utter a scream anymore. She'd been tempted when several death eaters had entered her cell and had their way with her, leaving her crying and begging for mercy. She'd been tempted when she'd heard bones crack, fingers shatter, and her will to live slowly crumbling away with each passing day.

Oh, yes, she'd been tempted. But she came to retrieve their wands, and she wasn't leaving until she had them again. The party would be completely helpless if they didn't have their wands to fight with.

For now, she would wait it out, and cling desperately to the hope she still had. As long as she still had that watch, she had a reason to fight.

XXXXXXXXXX

"What do you write in that thing, anyways?" Charlie asked Pansy one evening around a mouthful of roast.

Pansy shook her head as she realized just how much roast they ate around here.

"Just stuff. Whatever I'm thinking about at the moment. It… it makes it easier when it's all down on paper, there for me to see. Makes it more manageable." She replied, tiptoeing around her dark past yet again.

Charlie nodded. He still didn't really know what had happened to her before, but slowly she was beginning to open up to him. Slowly she was beginning to understand that good still existed in the world, that trust wasn't just a personal weakness or vulnerability. He still had a long way to go, but he'd certainly made more progress than any of the other Weasleys had.

And, Charlie had to admit, he was beginning to get a bit of a soft spot for the ostracized girl with the haunted past, with hair darker than her own memories and eyes as green and endless as the sea.

"Could I read it?" He boldly asked.

Pansy abruptly stopped writing and looked up to meet his gaze. Her grip on her pen tightened just slightly, her survival mechanisms whirring back to life. Her journal had all her weaknesses written out plainly for the world to see. If anybody knew the contents of that journal, well, she would be completely vulnerable. Giving such information to the enemy was foolish.

And yet… were they still enemies? Pansy didn't know anymore. Charlie had gone out of his way every night to bring her food, to make sure that she was still taken care of. He kept her company when no one else did. Sometimes when he wasn't there, she found herself craving his company. Was that strange? Was that something that enemies did?

Or… was that something that friends did?

"Maybe one day." She skewered a piece of roast and shoved it in her mouth. She shrugged, trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal.

Charlie, however, knew that it was a big deal, just as well as she did.

"There are… a lot of secrets in here," Pansy explained, "things that could hurt a lot of people."

_Things that could hurt you_, Charlie thought to himself.

"Nobody's ever read it." Pansy finished.

"Alright. It's up to you, after all." Charlie answered. He knew it would take time with her. He was actually surprised he had made as much progress with her as he had so far.

Pansy put her pen down, aggravated. Why did he have to look so upset? Why did he have to show an interest? Why did he even bother? He should know better, he should know that she wouldn't want to talk to anybody about her past. So why did he have to look so hurt when she turned him away?

And why did seeing him hurt have to bother her so much?

This felt wrong. This all felt so wrong. Here she was, being taken care of by the enemy, when she knew good and well what was going to happen to them. She couldn't get attached to them. She knew what Lord Voldemort had in store for this group, and she couldn't bear to lose more people she came to care about…

Not again… why did she care… why did this always happen…?

She put her journal aside and turned her eyes away, desperate to hide the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes. Yes, she knew exactly what would happen to this family. She knew the brutal death that was going to be administered. She knew how Lord Voldemort's forces would get to them, catch them unaware, and end it before they'd even realized what was happening.

She knew how the man before her who had somehow become her friend was going to die. And she knew that she would have a hand in it. And, still, he had no idea the betrayal that awaited him.

She didn't know if she could stand to see the look in his eyes when he realized what had really been going on the entire time, and did absolutely nothing to stop it.

She started shaking. Blasted tears, blasted emotions! Why did they have to spark up at the most inconvenient times? Sometimes she wished she could just do her orders without feeling anything- no conscience, no guilt, no nightmares, no nothing. She knew that she had been assigned to this because she handled her emotions better than anyone else. She knew how to be ostracized, heartless, uncaring, ruthless. She knew how to slaughter with reckless abandon. She could kill her best friend, her lover, her mother, and her father without batting an eye.

Then why was this so difficult? Why did she have so many second thoughts about these people?

She felt arms encircling her and initially tensed, but then relaxed. It was unusual to have someone to comfort her, and yet, not altogether unwelcome or unappreciated. She had never had that before, she had never had somebody to care… somebody to just hold her, to tell her it was okay, that nothing was going to hurt her…

She cried and cried, purging years of loneliness and guilt. All the while Charlie held her, letting her release all the emotion she needed to.

"I don't… I don't usually tell people this, but.. I'm scared." She mumbled, keeping her head buried in his chest, afraid to look in his eyes for fear of what she might find there.

"What is it you're so afraid of?" Charlie asked soothingly, rubbing slow circles on her back. She felt her breathing steady and her sobs become not so gut-wrenching. Charlie had had experience with consoling the inconsolable, that much was obvious.

"I'm afraid of what will happen if I fail. I'm afraid of… of what they'll do to me."

Charlie nodded in understanding.

"But… I'm even more afraid of what will happen if… if I succeed."

Charlie tensed just a little bit. He had wondered about her intentions from the very start. It seemed odd that Ginny's mass area apparition spell that had pulled them all out of the dangerous warehouse had just happened to bring Pansy along, too. It seemed odd that she'd be willing to live with them, willing to be their prisoner, not even putting up a fight or causing any trouble. It seemed strange that she hadn't tried to get away, hadn't tried to call for help, hadn't attempted escape of any sort.

However, now it all made sense.

"What… what do you mean?" Charlie asked hesitantly, fearing the answer he might receive.

"I can't tell you, not exactly. When I was young, a spell was placed on me so that if I ever betrayed the Dark Lord, I'd… my life would end. I can't reveal any of his secrets. All I can tell you… is to be ready. Don't let your guard down. Not ever."

Charlie joked, "You know, we've sort of been on guard ever since Harry Potter befriended our youngest Weasley brother. This advice isn't really helping much. Maybe something specific like dates, numbers in his army, attack patterns, that sort of thing?"

Pansy chuckled a little bit, grateful for the mood lightener. She wished she could do more, but she didn't even know the details of the spell on herself. She didn't know how many secrets had to be revealed before it took effect, or how long it would take before she would die. She only knew that she was the Dark Lord's property, his slave, his secret-keeper for all eternity.

"I know that you're not exactly chummy with all of us, but… I'd like to think that you're closer to us than you were before. Can I count on you to not help them, whatever it is that they're planning? I know it's absolutely insane to ask you to help us, but…"

Charlie struggled to find his words. He sighed exasperatedly, realizing that there was truly only one way to say it.

"Just tell me that I won't have to fight you. I don't… I don't know if I could." He admitted.

Pansy chuckled a little. "Now you get a glimpse into our world, Weasley. Death eaters are forced to torture and kill those they love every day. We suffer from the pain and the guilt until finally we are numb inside. This horrible feeling, this sense of dread that you have at killing your friends? That is our reality, a battle that we fight every day."

Charlie didn't really know what to say. All he knew was that the frail girl in his arms had never really known security and love, not like he had. All he could do to help her was hold her close, and hope that it kept some of her fears and nightmares away.

"You didn't answer my question, you know."

Pansy hesitated a little before answering, choosing her words carefully so as to not disrupt the curse.

"You won't have to fight me. Not today, at least."

Not today. It was good enough for him.

XXXXXXXX

The scent of vanilla cream wafted through Fred's room, enveloping his sleeping form and gently tugging him away from his dreams. He rolled over sleepily, stretching nimbly as the smell of sugar began to rejuvenate him. God, it smelled delicious. It was like heaven wrapped in a warm, fluffy towel that had just come out of the dryer. He had to know what it was.

He sat up and looked around the dim room, his eyes passing over the sleeping lump that was his brother and traveling directly towards the door, where he saw the shadow of two feet walking away. Something had been laid right outside his door, and whoever left it decided not to stick around to make sure that he got it.

Granted, it could also be for George, but in all honesty, Fred was the more attractive twin. If anyone was going to be getting cakes between the two, it would be him.

Fred gingerly snuck out of bed, being careful to not make any noise. He didn't want George to wake up and have to fight him over who got the biggest piece of cake. No, this delectable morsel was his to devour.

He opened the door, glancing both ways down the hallway to see if the cake fairy was still in sight. Who would bother to go to all the trouble of making him a cake? The curiosity gnawed at him, similar to the ravenous hunger ignited by the scent of the cake gnawing at his stomach. However, when he looked down and saw what was written on the cake in swirly red icing, he realized that there was absolutely no mystery as to who left it for him.

"Sorry," it said, surrounded by tiny red hearts.

He really wouldn't have pegged Hermione as one to surround their apology notes with hearts, but maybe she had made an exception for him. Maybe he was something special to her.

He had to marvel at the length she had gone to decorate the cake. She had charmed gummy bears to fly through elevated candy rings, chasing small flying m&ms in a well-crafted replica of a quidditch game. The gummy bear teams were separated by color, red versus green.

_Gryffindor versus Slytherin?_ Fred thought to himself. He watched as the gummy bear who was supposed to be Slytherin's seeker fell out of the sky, falling to a rather unfortunate fate in the mire of vanilla frosting. Moments later the red gummy bear seeker wrapped his short little arms around a particularly elusive m&m, and cheers erupted from the rest of the red team.

Fred chuckled. Definitely Gryffindor versus Slytherin. He snagged the green gummy bear that had fallen to his doom and popped it into his mouth. Oh yes, victory was sweet.

However, despite the gloriousness of eating a metaphorical slytherin quidditch player that tasted suspiciously like a gummy bear, it still didn't shake the guilt that Fred had. He knew that he had to talk to Hermione. He knew the situation wouldn't just take care of itself. He also knew that Hermione wouldn't back down until she got a response from him. This wasn't the first time she'd left peace offerings for him, although this one was certainly the most entertaining. He knew that the peace offerings wouldn't stop unless he talked to her.

Wait, maybe if he never talked to her again, he would get free cakes for the rest of his life! Maybe next time, she would charm gummy bears to wrestle! An epic battle royale between champion and challenger, a fight for glory, honor, and the right to not collapse in a swamp of icing! A death-defying, earth-shattering match between-

"Is that what I think it is?" Charlie's voice echoed from the end of the hall.

"Isn't this cool? It's like my own miniature, edible World Cup." Fred replied, having no qualms about waking up George now. He had to see this, for sure.

"This is, what, the second cake she's made you? Not counting the batch of cookies last week?" Charlie shook his head.

"I am surely going to lose my perfect body to fat over all these sweets, such a shame…" Fred lamented.

"It's time you had a talk with her. I know you've been putting it off, but… I think… I think something may happen soon." Charlie struggled to find the right words to convey the mood that Pansy had left him, the foreboding that something could very possibly tear them apart in the near future.

Fred picked up on the vibe immediately. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… I talked with Pansy tonight."

"…like you do every night…" Fred muttered.

Charlie acted like he didn't hear it. "She didn't say outright when it would be, but… I don't think we have much time left. A full frontal assault is coming whether we are ready for it or not. When that time comes, can you really head into battle knowing that you've left words unsaid?"

Fred sighed. "I know… I know. And the sad thing is, you shouldn't have to tell me that. I know that any second death eaters could attack and all this could end. I know how dangerous our lives are, and I know that each day could be the last. I just… I don't know what to say to her."

Charlie sat down outside his room, leaning against the wall and snatching a gummy bear from their flying frenzy to snack on. "Well, what's on your mind, exactly? Why are you afraid of talking to her?"

Fred hung his head. "Because I let her down. She needed me to save her from Jack, and I couldn't do it. Hell, George would be better for her than I would. He was there. He saved her."

"But she's not sending George homemade cakes with charmed gummy bears that crash into the vanilla icing every time their team loses. That's pretty quality." Charlie pointed out.

"You're right. I guess… I just don't want to hurt her again. I don't want to be just another guy that breaks her heart. And I keep getting the feeling that if she gets involved with me, that'll end up happening. I couldn't deal with that, you know?"

"Little brother, no matter who you end up with, you will hurt them at some point. Just look at our family. Do we hurt each other? Hell yes, we do! But do we love each other as well? Absolutely. It's not about promising not to hurt each other, that's just a naïve idea about perfect relationships. It's not a question of if you will be hurt, or when. You will be hurt at some point. It's realizing that you are going to screw up, over and over and over again, but also realizing that you've finally found someone who's worth fighting through that mess and muck and making yourself better from it. It's about realizing that you want to hurt, heal, and love together, every day, forever."

Fred gave him an odd look while snatching yet another gummy bear from the frosting-covered playing field. "When did you figure all this stuff out, eh? Last time I checked you were giving Ron swirlies because he ate the last piece of pie."

Charlie chuckled as he stood. "I grew up, I guess. You did, too… You just don't realize it yet."

Fred pondered his words as Charlie strode away, begging his leave since he was getting much too grown up for late nights such as these. Maybe… maybe his older brother had a point.

"Man, what happened to that guy?" A familiar voice drawled from the inside of his room. "Is mom making him read Lockheart's psychology books or something?"

Fred turned and brought the cake into the room, setting it on the desk by George's bed. Immediately George's eyes lit up.

"No she didn't. Flying gummy bears? Seriously?"

"They're a bugger to catch, especially the red ones. Probably cause they're wicked good flyers." Fred smirked.

"I have to wonder how Hermione managed to charm these without her wand. These have got to be some pretty complex spells." George mused as he munched on the edibles.

Fred shook his head, "No idea. She's a genius, that one, but I think that wandless magic is beyond even her abilities at this point."

George sighed, "We've got to get our wands back soon… We're completely defenseless without them."

Fred pointed out, "But without our wands, we have no way to storm said castle to retrieve our wands…"

"And no way to save Ginny." George finished.

Fred hung his head. All of the Weasleys had been thinking about this predicament, but none of them had been willing to say it up until this point. They never had recovered their wands from that ambush, and without their wands, they were powerless to get their little sister back. If ambushed, they would be totally overtaken and destroyed.

"What are we going to do?" Fred wondered.

XXXXXXXXX

Ginny ran like she had never ran in her entire life. Pain shot up and down her right leg, but she ignored it, determined to finish her quest. Despite years of Quidditch training, she still found that her heart was pounding, she was gasping for air, her legs aching and her lungs screaming for relief. Maybe her captivity had something to do with her being out of shape.

Or maybe that was the sheer intensity of the situation.

Ginny would never have thought that the small watch that was their portkey could hold so many tiny parts, but luckily for her, it did. She took care not to disturb any of its inner workings, but in the long, never ending dark days in her prison cell, she learned to explore it. She learned which parts went where, which parts served what function, and, most importantly, which parts could be taken out. The chore had left her fingers aching and numb, she suspected that they were either sore or broken. It had taken a few mere axels and screws from the inside of the watch to pick the tiny lock on her door, and within seconds she was free.

The brightness of the outside world was nearly overwhelming after being in the dark for so long. Her pupils rapidly adjusted to the light, the brightness almost knocking her off balance, but soon she regained her composure and took off down the hallway. She desperately tried to get her sense of direction, realizing that every second could mean discovery. She had no idea whether it was night or day, whether there would be patrols or not. She had no sense of time, no idea of which way to turn.

But she had to try.

She headed for the nearest set of stairs – in her experience, prisoners were always kept in cells in the basement, and important things were kept on the top floor. She went up them as quickly and quietly as she could, all senses alerted for any trace of a death eater. She passed floor after floor of seemingly identical rooms, none of them looking any different than the one that she had been imprisoned in. Finally the staircase led to an atrium that enclosed the entire top floor, she knew that this was the most likely place for their wands to be.

She fearlessly headed into the room and scanned it for any sign of the wands. All that greeted her was a deep crimson plush couch sitting in front of a blazing fireplace, bookshelves surrounding the walls, and a penseive in the corner. The entire place nearly glowed crimson, the flames only serving to intensify their colors. She turned every which way, her eyes devouring every dark corner and shadow where the wands could be hidden. Finally, her eyes landed on the most simple hiding place in the world – on top of the couch.

There they were, all together, seemingly harmless sticks that housed incredible power, laying out for the whole world to see and anyone to take.

Ginny's heart slammed into her ribcage as a realization hit her.

There had been no wards around her cell.

There had been no security guards for her to get past.

Finally, at her destination, there was nothing keeping her from claiming her prize.

It was a trap.

She whirled around to run, only to see the enormous oak doors close and lock with an ominous click, and an irate Draco Malfoy giving her a victorious smirk that sent chills down her spine.

XXXXXXXXX

Hermione awoke to an abrupt shriek. It wasn't a shriek that was made when an older brother pulled your hair, it wasn't a shriek when you saw a spider, it wasn't a shriek when you turned on the shower and the water was far too cold. It was a blood-curdling, lifeless, desperate, horrified shriek.

Hermione tore down the stairs, the other Weasleys close at her heels. She thundered into the kitchen and brought herself to a halt as her eyes landed on Mrs. Weasley, and then traveled to the small bundle in her hands. She miraculously held all of their wands, intact and seemingly unharmed. Ginny must have managed to find them and send them back with the portkey!

Hermione started to smile before she saw the reason for the shriek. Why had Ginny not come back with the wands?

Red stained Mrs. Weasley's hands, and streaked her face where she had tried to wipe away her tears.

"Blood… They're covered in blood…"


	15. Chapter 15

A Christmas Wish ch. 15

Despite the fact that Ginny Weasley had seen Draco Malfoy's smirk numerous times throughout her childhood, it still offered her no familiarity or comfort. Where most people would see a teasing grin or perhaps a harmless expression, she saw ultimate hatred and danger in those stormy grey eyes. She quaked, her legs shaking beneath her frail form, feeling for the first time how vulnerable she truly was.

Malfoy smirked. "Scared, little Weasel? I would be too." He strolled into the room, radiating authority with every step he took. He wanted her to know who was in charge here.

Ginny gulped. She refused to say anything. It was true that she was terrified, but she refused to let him see her weakness.

Malfoy picked up a wand that had been lying on the couch, one of many that were grouped together. Ginny's breath caught in her throat, having another wizard handle your wand was like having their finger on your pulse. He turned those steel grey eyes on her and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

"Looking for these?"

She kept her expression as blank as she could, refusing to give away any of her motives to Malfoy. She still had the watch, if it came down to it she could always escape with her life and return for the wands later. She had no reason to be afraid of Malfoy. He couldn't hurt her, not here or anywhere else.

She stood up straighter, preparing herself for the fight that she knew was coming her way. She would never back down, not when she was so close, regardless of how terrifying her adversary was.

"Well, here they are. You'd better get out of here before Jack finds you."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock. Malfoy was helping her? Surely she had heard him wrong. Surely he couldn't mean…

"Yes, yes, I know, I'm an evil death eater, blah blah. You don't have time to waste sitting around and wondering why I do what I do. Just know that I have good reason. None of this is for you, Weasel, believe me."

Ginny shook her head, skeptical to believe anything that Draco told her after all the lies he had fabricated through the years. "Why should I trust you?" She spat.

Draco chuckled. "What alternative do you have? On one hand, I'm really trying to help you, in which case you will take the wands. On the other hand, this could all be a trick, in which case you will still attempt to get the wands due to that blasted Gryffindor bravery. It makes no difference on your actions, now, does it?"

Ginny had to admit, he had her pinned. There was no argument that could turn away anyone's help, given her situation, regardless of how unexpected and strange the help was.

Draco was getting impatient with her indecision. "Listen, I don't have much time. If Jack finds out that I helped you at all, I'm done for." He shoved the wands into her outstretched hand, all of them present and accounted for.

"Why are you doing this, Draco? I don't understand, you were so cruel to us all those years-"

"Just repaying you for the time you noticed I was out past curfew at Hogwarts and didn't tell anyone on me." Malfoy remarked with a smirk.

Ginny shook her head, frustrated. "That's hardly a reason to-"

"Then the time when you let me copy your potions notes even though you claimed to loathe the very sight of me."

"But none of that's really-"

"Then… then the time right after Dumbledore's death, when everyone thought that I was the murderer and shunned me at school, but you didn't treat me any differently."

Ginny's breath caught in her throat. She couldn't find any more arguments, any protests, as weary as she was. She stopped and really looked at the boy in front of her, who was just as weary and tired as she. He had been fighting this entire time just like she had. Except, unlike her, he was all alone and had no one to comfort him. She recalled the time during her fifth year when Dumbledore was killed. She had thought nothing of her behavior towards Malfoy at the time, she just treated him like she'd always had. She noticed the way his friends abandoned him, noticed the way he always sat by himself, but didn't particularly go out of her way to make him more comfortable. It was, she thought to herself, an odd thing to remember.

Thunderous footsteps interrupted their thoughts and both of their heads whipped towards the door. Haggard voices struggled for dominance, each one trying to be louder than the next. Each one calling for the prisoner's whereabouts, each one calling for blood.

Malfoy turned to her. "Get out. There's going to be an attack soon, after you leave, get to the Burrow-"

Ginny didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant before he shoved her behind the couch and out of sight. She made herself as small as possible, looking underneath the couch and across the room. She saw seven pairs of feet, boots scraping the rough wooden floor, dislodging years of dust underneath the couch.

She swore silently. Three or four she could handle with Draco's help. But seven? Merlin, was there any other option but to flee and leave him?

She looked at the golden watch on her wrist, glimmering in the firelight, offering sweet and absolute freedom. She had what she had looked so fervently for, which was honestly more than what she had hoped for. When she broke out of her cell, she knew the odds of her making it out alive were low. But making it out alive and bringing the wands too? It was all she could have asked for.

But could she leave knowing that Draco would be destroyed for helping her?

"We heard you talking to the Weasel," one of the guards huffed.

Draco shrugged, "I don't know what you're talking about. I entertain plenty of women up here, none of whom look anything like that Weasel creature. I was just about to get to know one when you lot came thundering in here."

Following his words, Ginny got a brilliant idea. She whispered a charm to clean herself up, added heavy makeup to her face, and cleaned and fixed her hair into an updo with more than a few strands loose. She transfigured her rags into a little black dress, and added a spritz of perfume as an afterthought. She charmed her characteristic red hair to be a tad darker, just to make sure no one would recognize her. She hoped her changes would be convincing enough.

"Don't lie to me, Draco! Where is the Weasley girl?" A voice thundered through the room that Ginny recognized immediately. It was Jack.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her feet shook in her stiletto heels. She knew, though, that she couldn't leave Draco. She couldn't have found the wands without him, and she had to stay to make sure he wouldn't be hurt on her account.

"I swear to you, she's not here-"

Ginny put on her best flighty voice. "Draco, what are you doing? I told you I'm not into the group thing..."

She propped herself up on her elbows, adjusting her slightly disheveled hair. As an afterthought she hiked up her skirt a little, making it look like she and Draco had been rather busy before the group arrived. She pretended to flush in embarrassment when she saw the other men – it didn't take too much work with her fantastically crimson complexion.

It wasn't long before the men realized their error. Most of them awkwardly apologized for the intrusion, stumbling out of the room to escape the awkwardness that had ensued. One man, however, remained in the doorframe.

Jack.

"Well, well, Malfoy, you've picked yourself quite a looker this time." He blatantly walked over to her, his eyes raking her form shamelessly, picking apart every detail that caught his interest.

"You know me, Jack. I always have good taste." Malfoy tried to shrug off the feeling of dread that Jack's sudden interest was creating.

"And yet, for someone caught right in the middle of a snog, you don't look too ruffled, Draco." Jack eyed Draco's immaculate hair and perfectly trimmed clothes.

"I told her that I was going to get ready, and she could do the same. I didn't think she'd take it so literally and get started without me…" Draco argued.

Ginny silently thanked Draco's quick thinking. She tried her best to act the part, putting on a coy smile and even throwing a wink in Draco's direction.

"My, my, you have picked yourself a match… but this one… something about her looks familiar…" Jack muttered as he pulled her up unceremoniously by the arms. He looked into both of her eyes, up and down her body again, through her hair, invading her every private thought. She felt horribly uncomfortable under his gaze, it took everything within her not to look away.

"She's just a local barmaid, nothing more. No sense in scaring her, Jack." Draco tried to call Jack off of Ginny, he could tell she was getting more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Now, now, what's the rush? This one, there is something about her. I am not sure if it's her beauty or the fire I see in her eyes, the strength that I know lurks just beyond that calm façade… What is it, my beauty? Why do you enchant me so?" Jack leaned in closer to her, his breath tickling her cheek.

Chills ran down Ginny's spine, their creeping fingers leaving a cold feeling everywhere they went. She glanced away uncomfortably. "I'm… I'm not sure."

Abruptly he gripped her arm and threw her against the wall, her head smacking the rough bricks and leaving a blood stain as red as the surrounding paint and fire. She slumped to the floor, catching herself before her face hit the carpet. Her vision spun before her eyes – the scenery mixed before her like a twisted bowl of soup being churned over and over. She fought to catch her breath, pain exploding through her skull like a cruciatus curse.

Before she had a chance to move, however, the shocking sound of a fist hitting flesh stopped her dead in her tracks. She saw a blur of white-blonde hair, another fist, another sickeningly crunching sound. Jack doubled over, clutching his stomach and his face. Ginny used the distraction to crawl towards the wands, innocently waiting by the couch where she had left them.

Her elbows dug into the rough surface as she crawled military style. She knew she'd have carpet burns there the next day, but didn't really care. She pushed herself around the fighting men, hearing them yell and scream at each other without taking the effort to comprehend what they were saying. She cringed as she saw a stream of blood splash towards the wands – she didn't know whose it was, but she wasn't risking looking back to find out.

Finally, she reached her destination. The wands gleamed crimson in the light of the fire, begging her to take them in her grasp and get away. She had the wands in her hand, the portkey ready to be activated, and then she made her biggest mistake.

She looked back.

Jack's fist pummeled into Draco's stomach repeatedly. The sound was nearly enough to make Ginny sick. He was bleeding, some from the mouth, some from a wound on his stomach. He was slowing down, his momentum and energy drained from the repeated violent assaults.

_But my family is home. My friends. They need their wands, without them their powerless, every second counts! Every second I wait is a second I risk all of their lives._

_Every second I wait, I risk Harry's life…_

Draco had helped her, though. It was hard for her to just ignore that fact and leave him there. He seemed like he even had a change of heart and was secretly working against the Dark forces that he once claimed loyalty to. If that was the case, she'd be losing an agent by leaving him to die.

And, potentially, losing a friend.

Was it fair for her to let one person die in favor of saving another?

Ginny shook her head determinedly, dislodging her conflicting thoughts. No, she knew what she had to do. With grim determination she readied the wands, and activated the portkey.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Fred would never admit it to anyone, Charlie's words had left an impression on him. Charlie was rarely serious or concerned about anything, and the fact that he would use such a solid tone regarding anything was unusual. Fred sat at their kitchen table, sipping a cup of chamomile tea, pondering the things that Charlie had told him.

He couldn't help but staring at the empty seat across from him, another full cup of chamomile tea waiting at its place for an occupant that would probably never sit there with him again.

He shook his head in wonder at himself. What was this woman doing to him? He had never waited up for anyone like this before. He had never changed himself because of the effect a woman had on him. He had never been a coward before. He had never been afraid to fail.

What happened?

"Fred?" He heard a tentative voice from the entrance of the kitchen. A voice that was achingly familiar and comforting all at the same time. He didn't have to turn to see who it was.

"Hermione." After breathing the word, he looked up into her eyes, her red hair still as flaming as the day he pranked it. He smiled a little at the memory.

"You couldn't sleep either?" She asked as she moseyed into the kitchen. She was wearing pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, and Fred couldn't help but think that it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"No. Too much on my mind." Fred muttered vaguely. He didn't want to burden Hermione with all of his thoughts- if she wasn't ready to have this conversation yet, then he didn't want to push her.

Hermione stopped right before the table, her eyes landing on the two cups of chamomile tea. She glanced up at him, "You remembered that chamomile was my favorite? How did you know I would be awake?"

Fred gathered his courage, forcing it out of the dark corners where it liked to hide. "Because I knew that the thoughts that were keeping me awake would be keeping you awake as well."

Hermione nodded in understanding. He was ready to end this confusion, whatever it was. The invitation to sit with him was an invitation to negotiate this, to get everything out in the open. She knew that if she didn't take this chance now, she might never have the opportunity again.

Gathering her courage, she sat at the table, never breaking eye contact with him.

Fred visibly relaxed when she accepted the invitation to sit. He pushed the cup of tea closer to her, inviting her to drink before it lost its heat. She accepted, her fingers brushing against his and sending an electric shock through her core. It had been so long since they'd even casually touched, so long since she had been so close to him…

Her heart pounded as she stared into the dark liquid of the tea. She swirled it around a little, looking for some kind of guidance in its murky depths.

"Fred… What happened to you? You were so brave, you promised me so many things, and then… then you were gone." Hermione asked, her voice broken and quiet, almost dreading the answer he would give her.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, avoiding her gaze. He honestly didn't have a good answer because he couldn't explain it himself. All he knew was that suddenly she had been his world, haunting his every thought, everywhere he turned. And she was owned by another man who wanted nothing but to hurt her.

It was enough to drive a man mad, and then some.

"I… I don't know, Hermione. I understand why you're upset, you have every right to be. Maybe I wasn't brave at that moment, maybe my courage faltered when it came down to the wire. But don't ever believe that I don't care about you, Hermione. I care about you so much I don't even know what to do. It keeps me awake at night, it hits me in the chest every time I see you walk by, it drives me crazy every time I catch the scent of your perfume… It's like you're everywhere. You were all around me, but it was impossible for me to even reach out and take you for my own."

"Because of Jack," Hermione guessed.

"Exactly. As long as you were his, there was nothing I could do."

Hermione sighed. It wasn't the answer she needed. She wanted something more concrete, involving more facts and logic.

Fred saw her disappointment. "Hermione… I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make up for it. I don't know what happened, I just choked. And I regret not overcoming my own fears and rescuing you myself every day."

"George was there." Hermione pointed out. She knew it would hurt, but it was something she had to say. "He rescued me from my very cell. At first, I thought it was you."

Fred sighed. He knew what a big role his brother had played in Hermione's rescue. Without him, it probably would have been a failure. Maybe Hermione was leaning towards the other twin now. Maybe George had been right all along, maybe it was time to let her go.

"If George is the one that you want… I won't stop you from going after him, Hermione."

Hermione looked up in shock. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Never would she have expected Fred to do something so… well, selfless.

"You know that if I chose to go after him, you would lose me? And you're okay with that?" Hermione asked.

"Of course I'm not okay with the thought of losing you, Hermione. You drive me crazy, but, Merlin, I can't see myself without you anymore. And knowing that that will never happen, seeing you happy with my brother instead of me… It would drive me mad. But if he's the one who will make you happy, if he's the one that you want, don't feel like you have to stay with me."

"Wow, I can't believe you're saying all this. I can't believe you'd even make such an offer." Hermione exclaimed.

"I would rather you be happy with someone else than be miserable with me. The world is a brighter place when you smile, Hermione. Just being able to see that smile and that joy radiating from you makes it worth it, even if you aren't my own."

Hermione's expression softened, his words sinking into her every pore and nerve, bringing her a warmth and peace she hadn't felt in a long time. She knew, then, that she couldn't turn him away anymore. She couldn't run from these complicated feelings she had. He had finally taken her heart, wholly and completely, for his own.

"You are the one that I want, Fred. Not George." Hermione confessed.

Fred's eyes brightened as his gaze lifted to meet hers, his heart lifting at the prospect of finally having her for his own. His fears about Hermione having feelings for his brother waned away. She wanted him, and only him. The realization made him want to fly with joy.

Fred reached out and brushed her hand, seeking permission before going further. Hermione rubbed her fingers against his skin experimentally, testing the waters, exploring his hand. She felt her face heat up when he finally rested his hand on top of hers fully, claiming it for his own.

"So… does that mean you want to try this dating thing, then?" Fred asked, almost dreading the answer but knowing that now was the best moment to ask. If he let it slip away, he might never get his answer.

Hermione met his gaze, his hand in hers giving her the strength she needed to answer. "You know… Pansy said something interesting the other day. It was right after our argument, and I was absolutely furious. I ranted nearly all day, it must have been driving her mad. I talked about how you had broken your promise, called you all sorts of nasty things… I guess she had had enough of my moping. She told me that we shouldn't give up what we have just over a simple argument. She said that we should fight for us, to the very end if we have to, because things like this don't come along every day."

Fred considered her words for a moment. "And what do you think about that?"

Hermione sighed, "I think she's right. I think… Yes, I want to try this dating thing with you, Fred."

A grin split Fred's face, and a chuckle escaped his lips. "Excellent. Because, you know, if you HAD tried to date George, we'd only switch places on you."

Hermione laughed and tried to look appalled. "Fred Weasley, you wouldn't dare!"

Fred shrugged. "You never know, it could be exciting! You'd never know which twin you were kissing, right? It'd be like a guessing game."

Hermione burst into laughter, unable to be angry at such an outrageous thought.

"Who knows? We might pull that prank on you in the future. Be on your toes, Hermione." Fred winked at her jokingly.

Hermione grinned at him, feeling like herself for the first time in weeks. She hadn't realized how much the tension between her and Fred had been wearing on her, now that it was gone, it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

A light from outside caught her eye and diverted her attention. That was odd, nothing in the natural world should have been able to make a flash that bright…

Fred saw her distraction and turned around to see what the commotion was about. "Did you see something?" He asked her.

"I could have sworn I saw a light outside." Hermione stood up from the table, her curious nature demanding that she investigate until she had an answer.

She reached the window and her eyes searched the darkness, looking for anything that was out of the ordinary. The light in Pansy's treehouse had gone completely out, which was unusual. As long as she'd been here, that light had always been on. As quickly as a bolt of lightning, she saw a blur in the darkness, but couldn't be sure what it was.

"Fred, I think there might be someone out there." She said.

"The wards we have around the Burrow should keep everyone out, unless they're a Weasley. Or, in your case, a Granger." Fred pointed out. Still, just in case, he got up to see what was happening outside.

Fred watched for a moment, looking for any sign of movement. After a while he turned off the lights in the kitchen, leaving them in complete darkness.

"Fred, what are you-" Hermione started to say. Fred immediately wrapped a hand around her mouth to keep her from speaking, but didn't offer an explanation why. He gently moved both of them until they were in the shadows of the kitchen, none of the moonlight would make them visible.

A few minutes later, Hermione was about to demand an explanation when she saw movement inside the house. Dark cloaked figures, at least a dozen of them, were walking through the living room and up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Hermione's heart thundered in her ribcage as she understood.

Death eaters had broken through the wards, and meant to kill them in their sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

A Christmas Wish Ch. 16

Everything had gone according to plan. The death eaters were in the Burrow, all the inhabitants were asleep, the execution would be flawless. When the Weasleys and Harry Potter lay dead at their own hands, every death eater in the world who hadn't been present would weep with envy and jealousy. What a victorious moment it was been, what a grand day indeed. If only they could have been there, if only…

And, yet, there was one death eater that wanted nothing more but to get away from that moment.

Pansy had done her job. She had played their little prisoner and gotten her fellow death eaters inside. She knew, however, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she couldn't be there when they delivered the final blow. So, she did the only thing she knew she could do – she ran.

Her survival instincts pushed her to keep running, to get far away, and yet the further she got from the Burrow, the more tears fell from her swollen, bloodshot eyes, making her question if this was truly the best thing to do.

XXXXXXXX

The cloaked figures continued walking up the stairs, one after the other. Fred eyeballed the group, it looked like there were at least two death eaters for every member of the household. As long as the Weasleys were asleep, Fred knew they wouldn't stand a chance. Fred had to do something, had to alert them somehow to the danger. He knew that the quickest way to wake everybody up was a grand diversion, and there was nothing he did better than grand diversions.

He took out his wand, trying not to cause too much movement, and with a flick of his wand released the most obnoxious firework spell he could think of. He had never been able to forget any fireworks spell after his spectacular escape from Umbridge's rule. Within moments, the house was illuminated with green and yellow flashes of color. The firework shot through the upstairs hallway, crackling loudly and shrilly everywhere it went.

The death eaters scattered like a school of fish. Many of them had already entered individual bedrooms and were ready to administer the death blow, some of them were still in the hallway and a few trickling down into the kitchen. Regardless of where they were, however, all of them turned towards the source of the enchantment and attacked.

Fred flipped the kitchen table over to provide a shield, and dragged Hermione behind it. They fired off counter spells towards the death eaters, not daring to glance over the table's edge for more than a heartbeat. Fred heard his family begin to fight back upstairs, he heard Bill call out a few spells and Harry encouraging Ron after he'd administered a particularly nasty Reducto spell.

"We have to get out of here, there are too many!" Hermione yelled over the sound of combat.

"No, Hermione, we're fighting back! The others will eliminate the death eaters at the top of the stairs and help us. It's too risky to run, the door's too far-"

"But we would have such a bigger advantage if we could just get outside! This table hardly provides adequate shelter, and it can only take a few more spells before it'll shatter." Hermione pointed out.

Fred sighed. He hated to admit it, but she was right. The table wouldn't be able to protect them for long, and if it shattered they'd be in more trouble than if they'd tried to run for it. Either way was a gamble, either option had risk…

Hermione huffed in agitation, misreading his hesitation for fear. "Fred, I'm not going to play these games with you anymore. I'm making a run for it because we clearly will die if we stay here for much longer. You can follow me if you're brave enough. The choice is yours."

With that, Hermione jumped up and sprinted towards the door. Spells flew after her, but none of them hit their target. A gleam of light caught Fred's eye, and as he turned his head to the source of the light, a Death Eater threw a knife at Hermione. Her back was turned towards the knife, refusing to turn away from her goal, completely oblivious to her impending doom.

She wouldn't even know what hit her before she was dead. Fred knew he couldn't let that happen.

In a split second Fred had risen from his hiding place and leaped in front of the knife's path, feeling the metal bury to the hilt in his body with a sickening squelch.

Moments later he heard himself hit the stone cold floor with a resounding thud. He heard Hermione's shrill scream as she realized what had happened, heard the muffled yells of his friends as they fought off the remaining death eaters. The battle which had recently been such a detailed, vivid picture was becoming a blur, a smudge, a twisted and shaken bottle of nothing. He couldn't discern anything anymore, didn't know anything except that he had to fight but he was so, so tired…

The last thing he remembered thinking was that it was odd he couldn't feel any pain at all, only security and contentment at knowing that Hermione was safe.

XXXXXXXXX

Hermione wasn't used to being wrong. She was notoriously knowledgeable about any topic that dared to grace her path and considerably dangerous at any trivia game. Knowledge was her greatest weapon, it was her strength, her comfort. She had never thought that her faith in her own knowledge would lead to such a disaster.

She was such an idiot! Of course they shouldn't have run for the door. Their friends had the element of surprise on their side, they could easily overcome the death eaters and come to their aid quickly. The best course of action was to stay right where they were and wait for reinforcements to come.

She had been wrong, and now Fred was bleeding to death because of it.

She screamed at him, "Idiot! What were you thinking? That blade was meant for me, don't you get it? For me! If you hadn't… if I wasn't… why…"

Hermione slumped to her knees where she stood, defeated, oblivious to the war raging around her. All she knew was the numbing feeling engulfing her, consuming her, crushing her from the inside out.

A death eater saw her misery and devoured it. He drank it in, feeding off of it, wanting only for her to be miserable for eternity. It was their finest work, better even than they had planned, even if their numbers ended up being decimated. As long as their morale was destroyed, they were that much closer. He had to make the hurt more severe, had to make the pain so intense that it invaded every nerve in her body.

"Good thing that bloke took the knife for you, otherwise our passage in would have been blocked."

Hermione slowly processed his words around the surrounding chaos. For some reason, her being alive had led them through the wards protecting the Burrow. But why would that be? She wasn't the one who had set them up, so the death of the caster wouldn't-

Her breath caught in her throat as she recalled Fred's words just before the death eaters arrived. Only those who carried blood from the Weasley's, Harry Potter, or her were allowed through the wards.

Only those that had her blood…

They had used her blood from her captivity. They had drawn it from her and spread it amongst their ranks until they could each get through the wards. Why hadn't she thought of that before? Why hadn't she noticed that she was missing blood, and prepared the others for this possibility?

Her mind knew that her emotions were irrational, but she couldn't help but feeling that it was all her fault.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ginny and Draco arrived at the Burrow to see a brilliant array of yellow and green flashing through the house, followed by an eruption of spells. Without blinking an eye, the two of them ran towards the house.

"You really weren't kidding when you said they were going to attack soon, were you?" Ginny asked jokingly.

"No, I don't tend to get people riled up over potential slaughters just for fun. My hobbies tend to be more productive than that, Weasel." Malfoy sneered.

Ginny chuckled to herself. Malfoy would never change, she knew that. All that mattered now was that he was fighting with them, against the enemy, against the death eaters.

By the time they reached the house, most of the commotion had died down. Death eater corpses lie strewn about their sacred home, defiling their most precious possession. Her brothers and sisters stood around the room, slightly out of breath with flushed cheeks. A few of her friends stood around a body that was bleeding copiously, fussing over it, trying to save whatever was left.

Harry was the first one to notice her. His eyes drank in the sight of her like a starving man at sea, he rushed over to her as if pulled by a magnet. He drew her into his embrace, holding her close, swearing that he would never take that feeling for granted again.

Ginny's heart skipped a beat. Finally, the man she wanted most was in her arms. Finally, she was at home. She was safe amongst her friends.

"Oh God, Ginny… Ginny, I mi… we missed you so much. I was so worried, we all were. The entire family thought- Oh, hello Malfoy." Harry recognized the blonde wizard with considerably less enthusiasm than he had greeted Ginny.

"Nice to see you too, Potter. How about a 'thanks for getting my girlfriend out of that eerie dungeon', or is that too much to ask from the great Harry Potter?" Malfoy remarked.

"Thanks, Malfoy." Harry replied, shocking them all. Draco had helped Ginny, obviously, otherwise she would have denied it through and through. Harry hated to admit it, but he owed him.

Draco shook his head in shock. Maybe there was more to the antagonistic Potter than he had originally thought.

Ginny was the first to break the awkward silence. She glanced around the room, taking account of all of her friends, and yet had still come up short one crucial person.

"Where is Hermione?"

XXXXXXXXXX

"Stop! Stop!" Pansy heard a voice behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see who it was, being careful not to trip.

Charlie.

What… what was he doing here?

She tried to ignore the way her heart lifted at the knowledge that he was alive. She tried to be upset that the death eater's plans had been thwarted. She tried to do a lot of things in that moment, but the only thing she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she had to do was keep running.

So she ignored his request to stop, and actually picked up her pace. She was a fairly fit individual, and had been known to win many a footrace as a child. Of course, running footraces as a kid was nothing compared to what she was involved with now…

A few moments later she looked over her shoulder again. Charlie was gaining on her, and quickly! Before long he'd catch her, and drag her back to the Burrow.

She couldn't have that. She was happy there, happier than she had ever been, but… she knew that she would be hunted until she was killed for leaving the death eaters. And she knew that whoever housed her would be killed too.

She thought that they were all dead once, she didn't know if she could face that reality again.

Within moments, she felt a hand on her arm. "Would you stop already?" Charlie yelled from behind her.

She shook him off and kept going, not looking back.

He reached for her arm again, his grip more firm this time, but still she shook him off and kept going.

She thought she heard him mutter, "All right, you asked for it," before the ground slammed into her body and she found herself wrestling with someone who clearly had the advantage.

Moments later Charlie had her pinned to the ground by her wrists. Both of them were breathing heavily, recovering from their race. Pansy simply stared at him, not knowing whether she should feel angry or happy or upset or relieved or…

"What are you doing here?" Pansy asked.

"Getting my exercise, of course." Charlie answered sarcastically.

"You don't… look like you really need much exercise." Pansy observed, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. She tried to not think about the position they were currently in, but didn't succeed.

"Chasing dragons keeps me pretty in shape, its true. But I needed a challenge, so I upgraded to chasing teenaged death eaters."

Pansy squirmed a little to try and get out of his grip, but it was no use. He was considerably stronger than her and heavier too. She was caught. She was a prisoner all over again.

It would only be a matter of time before the death eaters came back for her, and finished the job they started.

"Charlie… what are you trying to do?" She asked weakly.

Charlie's heart broke for her. She was so young, and yet so broken already. All of her fire and passion and hope for life had been sucked out of her, used to feed Voldemort's twisted army. It was just another reason to hate them, just another reason to fight them.

"First of all, I'm trying to save you from vaporizing yourself on a forcefield that we made especially for you that's about 100 yards away. Second of all, I'm about to save you from a place that you don't want to go back to."

Pansy shook her head. "You don't understand, Charlie. If you keep me here, they'll just come for me later. Don't you get it? There is no escape for me. I am bound to them for life. I was cursed at birth and that's not going to change, even if you force me to stay here."

She sighed. "You thought I was your prisoner here, but really… my own house is the one that holds me prisoner. My own house is my cage. I've never felt as free as I have here, never in my life."

Charlie argued, "But you can have that! You can have that every day for the rest of your life! You can be surrounded by people who genuinely care about you and want to help you, instead of those that bring you down. You hate it back home, don't try to tell me you don't. I don't have to read that journal of yours to know that you'd leave the split second you thought you could get away with it."

Pansy yelled, "You still don't get it! Whether they have to send a few death eaters or their entire army to get me, they will do it! No traitor leaves the army and survives, ever. Whether it was an outright attack, an assassination in my sleep, or poison in my food… they would get me, somehow. There is no escape for me, and there never will be."

She had meant not to cry, she really did. It was almost obscene how often this family had that affect on her, her fellow death eaters would be ashamed. They would make fun of her for throwing her lot in with the blood traitors. They would mock her emotions. They would call her soft, attached. Weak.

Charlie's tone softened. "Pansy, this life you are living is no life at all. You're miserable, you jump at shadows, you don't trust anybody. I know you don't think much of us, but we can protect you. We have more forces than you think. You would be much more useful to us than the price we would pay fighting off whoever came for you. I know you think that you're stuck in the life you're in, but that's not true. You have a chance, right now, to change your future. You have a chance to get out of there. Don't look back on this and regret your choice."

Pansy looked aside. "You said I don't trust anybody. That's not… that's not necessarily true."

Charlie looked at her, trying to decipher her emotions in a turmoil of swirling green eyes. Tear streaks ran down her face.

"I trust you. And your family. I believe that you are truly good people, which is a rare thing."

"Then trust me with this, Pansy. Trust that when I say we can protect you, I mean it. Trust that when I offer you a future far away from your old life, it isn't a dream or an imagination. It isn't some far off fantasy, or a thought you entertain before being forced back to reality. This is real. You can change everything, and never have to look back. What do you say?"

Pansy's expression softened at his words. Could it be true? After all this time, after telling herself that such a life was impossible, could it really be happening? Was it really as simple as he said it was?

Charlie stretched out his hand, an invitation beckoning her to leave a world that had nothing left for her and enter into one where she could become more than she'd ever imagined.

She was tempted to say no. It would be so easy to wrap her shell of cruelty and cynicism around her again, and go back to being who she was before. It would be so easy to run. It would be so easy to just do what everyone else expected her to do.

But would it be worth it? Would it be worth the loneliness and the heartache, the suffering and the guilt… How much longer could she endure the intensity of such a life?

No. She was tired of their ways. Never again would she walk down that path, never again would she embrace violence and cruelty.

Slowly, she reached for Charlie's hand. Her fingertips met his, tentatively exploring his skin. Finally, she wrapped her fingers around his and clasped them tightly, reaffirming the decision she'd made.

Charlie smirked, and her heart thumped in her chest at the sight. Together, they started the long trek back to the war-ravaged house.

"Let's go home, Pansy."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Three weeks. When considered within the context of an entire lifetime, it seemed like such a trivial amount. If years could flash by in the blink of an eye, then what were three weeks? A moment, a heartbeat, a thought?

To Fred, the past three weeks had been an eternity.

It had been exactly 21 days, 10 hours and 14 minutes since he had last seen Hermione. Every second that went by took a small piece of hope with him. His thoughts were plagued with endless questions. Was she safe? Was she hungry? Was she even alive?

He dropped his head into his hands, closing his eyes. Fatigue immediately overwhelmed him and demanded that he make up for all the late nights he'd pulled recently. As soon as the temptation to sleep grabbed hold of him he violently shook his head back and forth, blinked furiously a couple of times, and went right back to his work.

Fred wondered what his old professors would think if they saw him working so hard, and a chuckle escaped from his lips. The laughter felt foreign and unwarranted.

"Fred… You won't be any good to her ill. Get some rest." Ginny said from the entrance of the library at Grimmauld Place. Her eyes were still darkened and her skin was pale, remnants of her captivity that still clung to her appearance.

"But what if I overlooked something, what if-"

"Fred. Enough. We'll look at it again in the morning." Ginny soothed, trying to get Fred to see the wisdom in her words.

Fred shrugged in defeat. "You're right. Who would have thought anyone could get Fred Weasley reading old ancient tomes deep into the night, let alone a girl?" He joked, lightening the somber mood that had fallen on Grimmauld Place since that day.

Ginny chuckled, humoring his attempt to lighten the mood, but there was no true joy in her eyes. "Come on, sleepyhead. Let's get to sleep before mom kills both of us." Ginny turned and left the room, leaving the door open for Fred to follow.

Fred stole one last glance at the book he was reading, desperately searching for just one last hint. All he wanted was a path to follow, a guide, anything. Just a glimmer of hope would get him through another eternity.

The blank, somber pages stared back at him, empty and endless.

XXXXXXXX

"Looks like we're both stuck here now, eh? Who would have thought." A voice chuckled behind her.

Pansy didn't even have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. It had changed since its melodic tunes haunted her own house, rang through her backyard during the summer and yelled at her whenever she wandered too far away. It held a hint of experience and maturity, a strength it hadn't had before, and a determination that she thought would never belong to him.

"Yeah… didn't have much choice in that one. The Weasel wasn't too accurate with her mass apparition spell." Pansy shrugged as she turned around. The stormy eyes that met hers were also familiar, and yet had molded into something different. Worry lines creased the forehead that had once been perfect ivory, perhaps the result of one too many stressful nights.

Malfoy cracked a smile at her comment. Ah, yes, the smile was the same. It was still that same boyish grin that he refused to show to anyone else, the same spark lighting up his eyes for a split second. However, unlike her previous experiences, this one lasted longer than any had before.

Odd, she thought. Maybe he was happier now.

"So what's the big plan, Pans? I know you're not just biding your time here. You're scheming, just like you always do." Draco's eyes tore straight through her façade and into her soul, showing once again that he knew her better than anyone else.

"I… Why do you automatically conclude that I have a plot hatched? Isn't it possible that I've changed sides?" Pansy asked defiantly, his assumptions angering her, despite the fact that they were deadly accurate.

Maybe she was so angry because they were right. She took pride in being an enigma to other people, but Draco Malfoy had always managed to fit the puzzle pieces together when it came to her.

"Because I know you, Pans. I know you better than anyone ever has, or will. And I know that you will never change sides."

Pansy stepped back as if she had been struck, her eyes widening in anger and disbelief. What right did he have to tell her what she could and couldn't do? What right did he have to act like he knew her better than she knew herself?

Draco composed himself for a moment, sensing that he had crossed the line. He ran a hand through his hair, glanced away, taking a deep breath for composure. "Listen, that's not what I meant. I just meant that these people are good people. Not the fake kind of good you read about in fairy tales, not the good façade that has evil intentions, they are truly honestly good people. You don't come across stuff like that every day. If you are planning anything, anything at all to bring them down… I swear I will never forgive you."

Pansy's brow furrowed as she processed his words. Since when was Draco more loyal to the blood traitors than he was to her? There was a time when they were the only ones in each other's lives, the only ones they had to talk to. The things they had seen, the stories they had crafted together, the lives they watched destroyed… what could possibly have made a bond stronger than theirs?

Pansy huffed. She would have to figure it out later.

"It's none of your business what I do." She said shortly as she turned back around.

Draco would have none of her abruptness, however, and grabbed her arm to stop her. "Pansy, don't! Not this time! We aren't in high school, people's lives are on the line!"

Pansy whirled around. "You don't think I know that, Draco? After what we've seen together, do you really think that hasn't gotten through my head? Things would be a lot easier if no one depended on us, if nobody's life was at stake. If our actions had nothing to do with the final outcome, I'd be just peachy. Now that you've made your point, get out of my face!"

Pansy made to leave, but Draco caught her by the other arm, trapping her from escape. Pansy had made it out of many dire situations before, but Draco's strength was much greater than hers.

"Don't do this, Pansy. Don't be an idiot." He plead, a hint of frustration and exasperation creeping into his voice.

"What, kill the traitors just like you were always taught to do?" Pansy's tone bit like a snake with venom as she pulled against his grip.

Draco winced, but brushed the comment aside. "No. You're shutting me out, just like you shut everyone out."

Pansy stopped struggling, but didn't turn around.

"Let somebody in, Pansy. Even if that person is not me. Living life by yourself is no way to live at all."

He let go of her arms and walked away, leaving her standing in the living room by herself, confused and shocked to the core.

XXXXXXX

Charlie didn't want to leave Grimmauld Place, but there simply weren't enough rooms for all of them. He could continue the search for Hermione from various locations, gathering intelligence across the globe while they continued hiding out at Grimmauld Place. He knew it wasn't quite as safe as being with all of them, but what were the chances the Dark Lord would come after one lowly Weasley? Almost nothing.

Right. Almost nothing. No need to be afraid.

Even if he wasn't afraid, he sure did feel lonely sometimes. He had gotten so used to living in a house packed with other people that he had almost forgotten what it meant to live alone. The weather wasn't particularly helping matters, either. Storm clouds had covered the horizon, making the middle of the day seem like the dead of night, and rain was falling in torrents around him. It was no matter, however. He had a nice fire going, enough to warm the modest cottage in which he lived. Still, he found himself wondering about a certain black-haired, green-eyed, deliciously curvy-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

Charlie almost fell out of his chair as the abrupt noise brought him out of his daydream. Immediately he checked his wards around the place, sighing in relief when he realized that they were all intact. The only person who could have made it past was someone in his family, with his blood, or someone who had his family's permission.

Still, he made sure to grab his wand before opening the door.

A flash of lightening struck the sky as his open door revealed a cloaked figure, huddled against the pouring rain, futilely trying to defend against its beating. As the flash faded Charlie's eyes began to focus, recognizing the outline of a delicate jaw, lowered thick black eyelashes, and a shivering chin. He almost didn't believe it until she finally met his gaze.

"… Pansy? What… What are… What are you-?"

"I hope it's okay, your parents said I was welcome to visit. They were confused, but… " Pansy looked into his eyes and saw confusion there, and her resolve wavered. Maybe this was all one giant mistake.

"I'm sorry, I should have owled you, I shouldn't bother-"

Charlie yanked her in for a hug, and Pansy's heart nearly stopped.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Charlie admitted, making his feelings known. Pansy admired him for such honesty, for being able to so easily do what she had so much trouble with.

"You're… You're getting all wet." Pansy said, unable to be so open with her own feelings as Charlie had.

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled.

Pansy tentatively hugged him back, wrapping her frail arms around his torso and leaning her head against his shoulder. Later, she would look back and think how awkward it was, how out of line it was for her to reciprocate, how she shouldn't have shown weakness or affection. Later, a million doubts about that moment would attack her during her darkest nights.

But right now, it was enough.

Charlie pulled apart, chuckling as he looked down at how soaked he had gotten. He cast a drying spell on himself and ushered her inside.

"Why didn't you just apparate straight in or use Floo powder? You'll catch your death out there." A concerned expression crossed over Charlie's features. Pansy could count on one hand how many times she had seen that expression directed at her.

"I… I didn't want to bother you. Although I guess showing up unannounced at your door qualifies as bothering you, but…" Pansy fidgeted with her wand, her eyes looking anywhere except at him, absently stepping through the house.

Charlie stopped, quietly studying her face. It was obvious to him that something was bothering her.

"What's going on, Pansy?" The concerned expression was back again. It made Pansy a little uncomfortable, she didn't know how to handle others' concern for her safety. She could take care of herself, thank you very much.

He knew that something was up, however. That much was undeniable. She could still turn back, though. She could still act like she was just having a crazy emotional fit and didn't know what to do. She didn't have to go through with her plan.

"What makes you think something's going on? Can't I swing by to visit my favorite Weasley?" She straightened her posture and put on her most charming smile, all hints of her apprehension vanishing. She knew how to play the part like a master, she had played it her whole life.

"First of all you haven't even cast a drying spell on yourself, so you must be distracted by something. I'd like to think it's my devilishly good looks, but I know you're too strong to fall prey to those. Secondly, your hand is in your pocket around your wand, which is probably a comfort thing. It feels nice to know you can always back out, always run away, just with a flick and a spell. Thirdly… I know you, Pansy. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, see it in the way you walk and carry yourself. What's going on?"

Pansy was flattered by the level of observance Charlie had used, most men didn't look twice when a female was upset. However, she was also terrified. Anyone who knew this much about her was a threat. Knowledge was power.

Charlie saw the fear in her eyes. "Hey, relax. It's just me." He smiled the same goofy smile he always had to reassure her.

She nodded. He was right, of course he was right. It was time to stop living her life paranoid that her words would be used against her. It was time to finally let someone in. It was time to stop living just for the purpose of surviving, but truly enjoying life for every second that it gave.

She was going to tell him about her plan. She was going to fight for what she should have fought for a long time ago.

She walked over to one of Charlie's sofas and plopped in front of the fire, realizing that this would be a long conversation.

She jumped a little when she felt a cool breeze drying her off. Charlie had set next to her on the sofa and cast a drying spell over her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I completely forgot, I got water all over everything-"

"No, no, it's okay. I don't mind. And it's not that the soaking wet look doesn't become you, because it does, I'm just not sure how comfortable you would have been. And I'm pretty sure mum would kill me if I let you get sick." Charlie smirked.

Pansy wrung her hands and glanced down at her lap. "She'd never know."

Charlie shot her a questioning look.

"I'm… I'm not going back."

Charlie's face fell. "Look, Pansy, we've been really good to you. I can't believe you would just go back to the Dark Lord and tell him all our secrets-"

"No no no, it's not like that, it's…" her sentence trailed off as she tried to find the courage, her heart pounding through her ribcage, the warm fire suddenly providing way too much heat. Could she really do this?

Charlie took her hand without saying a word, letting her know that he would wait as long as it took for her to say what she needed to. She could swear he could feel her pulse hammering through her fingertips, her heartbeat ramming a thousand miles a minute not only because she was nervous. She didn't think she had ever had anyone care this much before…

She swallowed a lump in her throat, gathering her words as best as she could."I came to you because… because I know you're the only one who had even a remote chance of trusting me with this. The others are cordial and nice, but hospitality is not the same thing as trust. But you're different from them. You see more than who I am, you see who I'm trying to be. You believed in me, when nobody else would. You chased after me for who knows how long just to make sure I'd come home. That's why… That's why I wanted to talk to you about this."

He covered her hand with his other hand, engulfing hers. It made her feel strangely safe and secure, a feeling that was foreign and wonderful at the same time. His brows furrowed with concern, realizing that whatever confession was coming would be humongous for both of them.

"As far as the Death Eaters know, I'm still one of them. I did my part during the raid on the Burrow, so they still think I'm working for them. I could walk into their base, uncover all their secrets, walk out and they would think nothing of it. I know where they keep all of their intelligence, their secrets, their hideouts, but most importantly… I know where they keep their prisoners of war."

Charlie's eyes lit up. "You could find Hermione."

Pansy smiled as he figured out her plan for himself. "Exactly."

Charlie's features darkened as he worked out the kinks in her plan. "But you would have to be a double agent. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? And didn't you say that you wanted to leave that life forever and never look back?"

Pansy shook off his concerns. "I've thought about the risks and I'm ready to accept the consequences if I have to. I'm sick of sitting by the sidelines doing nothing, just letting evil people get away with whatever they want. I'm sick of being so afraid of the consequences that I never take a chance."

Charlie shook his head, clearly his fears weren't assuaged. "Pansy, being a double agent is by far the most dangerous and stressful thing any person can do. You saw what it did to Snape, it nearly destroyed him. Aside from the physical strain, simply the mental strain of keeping up two facades was enough to wear him down. Please tell me you've thought about this."

"I have. This is what I want." Pansy said matter-of-factly.

Charlie sighed, realizing there was nothing he could do to change her mind. "I hate to ask this, but I feel like I have to. You just recently decided to work for us. How do we know that once you're there and you see all your friends again, you won't decide to work for them once again? How… How can we trust you to come back?"

He had to know that he would see her again. He couldn't bear knowing that this might be their last time together.

Pansy gave him a soft smile. "Because I'm leaving something with you."

She reached into her coat and brought her journal out of her pocket, its worn cover now familiar to Charlie's eyes.

"I think you know how important this is to me, and I think you know that I wouldn't just leave it with anyone. And you definitely know I wouldn't leave it somewhere without the intention of coming back for it. If you want, you can read it from cover to cover. My deepest thoughts, my darkest times… they're all yours."

"Take it."

She handed him the journal, he released her hand to take it, marveling at the fact that she would even leave it here with him.

"Is that enough for you?" She asked, fully expecting him to say that it was.

"No."

His response shocked her. "What do you mean? Nobody else has ever read that! What else am I supposed to do, give you my kidney? Sacrifice my firstborn child to the Weasley god? How can that not be enough?"

He almost couldn't believe he was about to do what he was about to do, but he also knew that he might not ever get another chance. He didn't care about what she might think or if it was too soon, all he knew was how he felt.

Like Pansy, he didn't give a damn what the consequences would be.

There was no going back.

He grabbed her face and pulled her in, then kissed her. Pansy was so shocked that she didn't even have enough time to recover, to reciprocate or to even think. Her heart was back to pounding, and suddenly she was very conscious of how close they were. All she could think about was how amazing it had felt, how right, how perfect.

"Now THAT… that was enough." Charlie said with a smirk.

Pansy laughed and felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Her gaze drew down to his lips again, wanting more than just a peck goodbye but also not sure if she was bold enough to take that step.

Aw, screw it. They had thrown consequences out the window a long time ago.

They shared their second kiss, fueled with desperation and a very palpable fear that these could be their last moments together. He pulled her close, surrounding her with his warmth, providing her with a few moments of safety before she was plunged into the world of darkness again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back like it was the last kiss she would ever give.

For all she knew, maybe it was.

A slight tear escaped the corner of her eye. She had finally found something worth fighting for, and for all she knew, she might never experience it again. Life sure was a bitch sometimes.

Charlie kissed the corner of her eye where her renegade little tear had broken loose from her impenetrable emotional walls. Without her saying a word, he knew why it had fallen.

"Don't you dare give up on me in there. I fully expect to see you again, to be with you again. I want you to fight with everything within you to get back, do you understand me?"

She smiled. "Of course."

He wanted to believe the hope that glinted in her eyes, the sheer determination and willpower that shone brighter than any star. But he also knew the extent of the darkness lurking in her future, just waiting for an opportunity to snuff her out. He couldn't quite calm the worries of his mind as the storm raged around their tiny cottage, whipping and beating it with everything it had, trying its best to destroy what remnants of their world were left.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was the third time she had dreamt about the redheaded boy. Again, he had that goofy grin. Again, he was playing pranks on her. But this time was different from the others. This time, there was something else to his expression, something that went far beyond mere pestering and joking. Something more serious, something thoughtful, something real.

Who was this boy? Why couldn't she get him out of her head? He shouldn't have been so hard to forget, seeing as how she had no recollection of him. It wasn't like she had ever met the guy.

Hermione rolled out of bed and glanced around her room. The familiarity was a comfort to her, she found security in repetition. Some might think it was boring to get up in the same place every day, to do the same thing over and over, but she found daily life invigorating. After all, many people fought hard to preserve such simple things every day. Men had died for such things, had murdered, killed, destroyed, gone to war…

Suddenly her train of thought veered in the opposite direction. Her memory felt like it was on the brink of discovery, like there was something important waiting for her just behind a locked door. However, as soon as the feeling was there, it vanished.

She shook her head. That sure was odd…

Without dwelling on her brain's tricks any longer, she headed down the stairs. Her parents and siblings would want to see her.

"Good morning, mom. Good morning, Blaise." She greeted her mother and brother as she walked through the kitchen door.

They both greeted her in return as she sat at the table. Steaming eggs and pancakes awaited her, along with a glass of orange juice. It was just the way she liked it, just the way she always had. Except…

"Mom, do we have any coffee?" She asked as she munched on some eggs.

"Honey, you don't drink coffee. None of us do." Her mom answered, looking perplexed. Hermione saw her brother shoot a venerating glare towards their mom, but she didn't understand why. Maybe he wanted coffee too. He had never been a morning person, from what she could recall.

"Mom, I've drank coffee since I gave that presentation to you and dad when I was 12, remember? Dad was so proud he shared it with the entire office. I told you it would increase my productivity, help sleeping habits…" Hermione tried to jog her mother's memory. It seemed she was forgetting more and more of their past history. What was going on?

Her mom shook her head. "Of course, of course. I'll pick some up at the store today."

Odd. They always had coffee. The entire family had always drank coffee. How strange…

Blaise stood up abruptly, carrying his dishes to the sink. "I've gotta go to school, I'll see you guys later." As he placed his dishes in the sink, the sleeve on his jacket slipped up, revealing a mark that Hermione had never seen before.

"Blaise, don't tell me you got a tattoo! Dad's going to kill you, and you know they're not allowed at school! Gah, it's so ugly too! Really, a black skull?" Hermione chastised.

Blaise froze, as did Hermione's mother. Blaise recovered first, teasing her for being such a goody goody and always following the rules. They would have to be more careful, though, just one slip up could ruin everything…

"Mom, aren't you going to do something?" Hermione asked.

"We'll worry about it later dear. Finish your breakfast so you can go read your books." Her mother turned around, suddenly very distant, suddenly so far away.

"Mom… When can I go to school like Blaise? I'd love to be able to learn and work like he does, meet new people, discover the world-"

"Hermione, you are not allowed out of this house. We have discussed this." Her mother answered shrewdly.

"But-"

"That's final!" Her mother barked harshly. She was reaching the edge of her rope. This was more of a challenge than she had signed up for, more stressful than most of her assignments. She had just about had enough.

Hermione sighed. She just couldn't shake the feeling that there was so much more in the world just waiting to be discovered, some reservoir of knowledge waiting to be unlocked. And she couldn't shake the feeling that it was meant for her, only for her. And maybe, just maybe, it would change the course of her life forever.

Tomorrow, she would try asking again…


	18. Chapter 18

A Christmas Wish ch. 18

The nightmares were getting worse. She would wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, gasping for breath, sitting straight up in her bed only to realize that the darkness she thought was so threatening was merely the gentle twilight caress that came with every night. She would look around her room, comfort returning to her slowly as familiarity sank back in. She was safe again. She always would be safe. There was no need for her to be afraid anymore, no need to fear the darkness that had plagued her for many months.

Still, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling of fear that lurked in the darkest corners of her heart.

She threw off her covers, the chill air bringing relief to her burning body. Quietly she crept out of her room and down the stairs, determined to shake off her demons with a giant glass of chocolate milk.

She muttered a spell to add some light to the dim kitchen at Grimmauld Place. It wasn't quite home, but it was much better than being in a dungeon any day. Her family was here, which was important.

Well, most of her family was here.

She strolled over to the refrigerator but stopped when she heard a creaking from the staircase. Surely nobody else was awake at this hour, surely nobody else got the munchies in the middle of the night quite like she did.

She crept around the corner to see what was going on. An unmistakable shock of blonde hair caught her attention, but what drew her attention more was the huge pack attached to his back. Was he leaving? Where did he have to go?

"Draco?" Ginny called from the kitchen.

Draco jumped a little bit and turned in her direction, recognition dawning when he saw her standing there. He sighed, resigning himself to explaining what he was doing instead of making up some shady excuse.

"I don't trust Pansy to come back with the information she promised." Draco admitted.

Ginny looked perplexed. "But Charlie said she was sincere, she even gave him her-"

"I know, I know, her diary thing or whatever," Draco said impatiently. "Look, the fact of the matter is that I know the girl, and I don't trust her farther than I can throw her. " Draco emphasized just to make his point.

"So what do you plan to do? Throw yourself in harm's way too just to make sure she does her part?" Ginny asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

"I intend to make her do what she said she was going to do."

"And how are you going to do that, exactly? This isn't a game, Draco. You can't just make people do what you want them to. We're already risking a lot by letting her go back in, but sending you in as well is an even bigger risk. We need you here, whether you want to believe it or not." Ginny huffed as she turned towards the kitchen, more determined than ever to recover her chocolate milk.

"What… What do you mean you need me?" Draco asked in shock, almost visibly staggering from her comment.

Ginny shrugged, keeping her back turned to him, taking solace in the things she knew. She protected the most fragile parts of her heart from those that she still didn't quite trust, she used the strongest part of her body to defend what could be the weakest parts of her soul.

"I… I don't know exactly, Malfoy," she muttered. "All I know is that you know a lot. Giving you up would be a mistake, and we've made our share of those lately. Time to back off on the mistakes for a while, I guess." She scratched her head as she thought of something more meaningful to say, something that would make more sense. She knew that Draco wanted hard, concrete facts, but she couldn't give them.

"Just…. Just go back to bed, Malfoy. Just trust Pansy. Trusting her will speak volumes more to her than charging in and forcing her to keep her word, you know? The fact that we believe that she'll do what she said she will, the fact that we're waiting on her, depending on her… that is far more motivation than any threat could ever be."

Draco huffed. Obviously he didn't believe her words, thought that she was too innocent to understand the violent ways of the Death Eaters.

"Sure… whatever you say."

Still, despite his obvious disagreement with her statements, in the end, he turned around and went back to bed. As far as Ginny knew, that was the only time he ever attempted to leave Grimmauld place.

XXXXXXXXXX

She couldn't say exactly when it started. It was a gradual process, like a pitcher filling up with water one drop at a time. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when she began to overflow, but she knew that with each passing day she came closer to spilling over the brim and discovering who she really was. Regardless, Hermione knew that something about her upbringing wasn't quite adding up. There was something about the way her mother and brother and father treated her, something that seemed warm and friendly on the surface but was infinitely cold beneath…

Something wasn't right.

Again she had a dream of the boy with the red hair and the freckles, the laughs and smiles. He had jokes that she hadn't really heard of before, except from the other boy who looked exactly like him. How were there two of them? Why did it bother her so much? Why did he visit her dreams every single night, without fail?

Absently, she wondered if the red headed boy dreamed about her too. She hoped that she hadn't turned into one of those lovesick schoolgirls, pining after some boy that she would never have as her own.

She shrugged her dreams off as she sat up to face the day. Sunlight streamed through the window, the features of her room greeted her much as they had every year and every endless day before. Suddenly she found herself questioning the regularity of daily life, questioning the integrity and reality of her existence. She found herself wondering if there wasn't something more, more than just the four white walls caging her in. Maybe this day, unlike every other one, would provide her with some answers.

She chuckled and shook her head. She had spent too much time reading the fantasy books that mother had left her. She had to keep her head where it belonged, and out of the clouds of fantasy.

She stretched, the first true blessing of morning reaching her as her muscles awakened to being alive again. Blood flowed as oxygen stretched her lungs, reminding her of just how alive she truly was. She reached towards her nightstand with instinct, knowing that the morning paper would be resting there.

Because it always was, because that was how it had always been as long as she could remember. That was the way things were, that was the way things would always be.

Hermione sighed. Some things never changed.

Her fingers closed around the familiar worn newspaper print, bringing it towards her with her left hand. She mechanically opened the paper with the other hand, skimming the headlines for anything of interest. It was her only link to the wizarding world, the only thing keeping her connected to the outside.

So many of the headlines were more of the same. Political unrest, wars, natural disasters. She learned as much as she could about the war, but also knew that headlines provided a very small piece of the actual reality that was occurring. She wondered why the Ministry wasn't taking proper steps to stop Voldemort, why they wouldn't send an auror army after him. No, something about the war didn't add up. Something was terribly wrong.

Her thoughts slammed to a halt as her gaze crossed a certain headline. An assault on the Burrow?

What was it about that name, she thought? What a cozy thing to name a house, so welcoming and warming. That had to be it. Surely, that was all that it was.

Still, just out of curiosity, she flipped to the appropriate page and read the story. Plastered on top of the entire story, dominating the entire page, controlling the content more than the words itself, was a picture of the family that lived in the so-called Burrow. Other than the young girl being rather pretty, most of the faces were ordinary.

Except for one.

What was he doing there? She had no idea that she could possibly be dreaming about a real person, let alone that this real person would have a twin, just like her dreams indicated. Still, it was just a dream. It wasn't science, it hadn't' been tested, it wasn't proof. She knew that she couldn't rely on it like she could rely on cold, hard facts.

Still, she couldn't deny the rapid increase in her heart rate that suddenly occurred. Sure, she could write it off to genetics, but…. She knew that there was something happening, something so much bigger than a mere heart rate increase. Something that could take over her entire soul and make her long for something she never knew, something that could consume her like a scarlet ocean drowning in flames, something that could make her absolutely ache for a love that she never even knew.

She sighed. What was happening to her?

There was no way any of this could be any more than a ridiculous coincidence. No way at all.

Still, she took his picture in the newspaper, folded it up, and put it in her pocket. For some inexplicable reason, she just felt compelled to have it close to her, no matter what happened.

With that picture close to her, she felt like all her questions could be answered. Maybe, just maybe with that tiny piece of paper in her pocket, she could conquer her own doubts and find out who she really was.

XXXXXXXXX

He didn't know how much time had passed. His gut still ached with every passing day. He constantly blamed his knife wound from the battle at the Burrow, however, he knew that this hurt inside of him would never pass as long as Hermione was gone. He knew that a part of him would never be the same, would never truly have the same spirit that it did before.

As long as she was gone, something would never really be quite right, no matter how many faces were smiling, no matter how many jokes were told or how many people were laughing. It just wasn't the same without her.

He despised himself for the way that he just let her go, but he also knew that he could have done nothing else. That part may have disgusted him the most, the fact that the most he could do was take a knife in his gut and allow her to be captured. What would she say to him? After all his promises of being everything he could be for her sake, after all of his promises of being strong for her and conquering his fear for her, what would she say to him now?

She would probably laugh. She would point at him and just laugh, that's exactly what she would do. She would tear him down and say that she knew this would happen, say that she knew he was a good for nothing jokester. Say that she always knew he wasn't really serious about anything. Say that she should have just taken care of this by herself when she had the chance.

God, how would he face that? How could he face her disappointment, her sorrow, and know that it was his fault?

"We're all worried about her, mate. You gotta keep living, you know?" A voice interrupted his thoughts, almost as if on cue.

"I know, I know. I'm just afraid that I might fail and let her down. The last thing I want in the world…. Is to let her down again…" Fred sighed, staring at the wood in the table, asking for any sort of answer, any sort of clue. The patterns stared back at him much as they had since he was a child, the same bland crisscross lines, an answerless abyss, just like it always had been.

"Well, if you don't try at all, I can guarantee that you will let her down." He answered. It wasn't common for them to be this sincere with each other, this open, this honest. However, despite that, they also had an uncanny knack for knowing when the other needed help, when the other needed words of support, encouragement, advice.

They knew how to be there for each other.

Fred sighed. How could he explain this in a way that didn't sound totally ridiculous? How could he put words to true love mixed with defeat mixed with potentially ultimate separation? How could he make it seem real for someone else who had never experienced any of those things?

Fred sighed, gathering his thoughts. "I… I would do anything for her. I know that I've let her down, I know that she might go to the grave thinking that I'm not good for anything more than telling jokes. I know that she might think that for the rest of her days, however, I also know deep down that I feel so much more for her than I ever have before. I will do whatever it takes to get her back, George. I don't care if I have to go to the ends of the earth, I don't care what it takes. I've made the mistake of holding back before, letting my fear keep me at bay… but I don't want that anymore. I know that there's a lot more to life than just making people laugh and… if I can't make her laugh then, well… then that's enough for me. Everything just seems so empty without her smile."

George sighed and laughed a little to himself. "You really have fallen, eh?" He remarked, more to himself than to Fred.

"Yes, more than you know, Gred." Fred joked, using their old childhood nickname.

George chuckled, unable to hold back the memories that their old childhood names held. "You know, Forge… If this girl is all you say she is, you better grab hold of her and never let go. Otherwise I might be tempted to snatch her up for myself, you know?"

Fred laughed at his brother's antics. He knew that George would never try to take Hermione from him, not this late in the game. He knew that George understood his feelings for her, knew that Hermione meant more to Fred than anyone else ever would.

Did he have to say any of this? No, some bonds went deeper than words.

George recognized the look of exhaustion in his eyes, and knew how much he needed encouragement and support. Granted, he'd never admit it, but his determination was slowly dying every day that passed. He needed to know where she was.

"Don't worry, mate. We'll find her, especially now that we have an agent on the inside." George offered, shrugging as he said the words, trying to sound like he meant what he said.

"Yeah… she's out there, somewhere. I know that much. All we have to do is find her." Fred sighed as he stared back at the same crack on the wooden table, the same one he had memorized as a child. The one that he had stared at when his mom scolded him, scouring its jagged corners for any sort of answer or excuse that would drag him out of the predicament he was in.

This time, however, he knew that he would have to make his own answers.

XXXXXXXX

She didn't think it would be this easy to blend into a life that she had spent so long despising, this easy to adapt to a world that she had loathed with all of her heart. And yet, here she was, wearing the death eater garb like she used to, pleading that she was truly back for the sake of the cause. Promising that she'd never betray them, promising that she valued the truths of Voldemort, hated blood traitors, hated Mudbloods, hated them all…

She wondered sometimes how they had room for so much hate. It was no wonder so many of them turned out the way that they did.

It had been an entire month and still she had heard nothing. Still she had to keep up her appearances, still she had to swear her loyalties like everyone else. How long would it take her to find Hermione? Another month? A year? Did Hermione even have that long to wait on her?

She hadn't even contemplated how long this mission could potentially take. She understood it was dangerous when she went in, she understood she would never walk out of there alive if they discovered her secret. However, she just couldn't sit by anymore. She couldn't cower in the darkness and be afraid to fight everything that she'd ever hated, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to right every wrong that she'd ever made.

She took a deep breath, letting it out with a determined air. No, this time she would not fail. This time, she would make a difference.

She knew that if Charlie bothered to read the tattered pages within her well-worn diary, he would never forget. She was more sure of that than she was of anything in this empty world.

This time, she knew that she would be remembered.

XXXXXXXXXX

Charlie knew that his boss would notice the dark circles under his eyes. He knew that he'd notice how he didn't seem as into his work lately, how he seemed more tired at work, took slightly longer lunch breaks so that he could bury his nose into that leather-bound book.

For once in his life, though, he didn't really care. For once in his life he was doing something so much more important than taming dragons, although dragon taming certainly ranked in the top 10 in his book.

No… Charlie knew that if he passed up the opportunity to read this book, he may never get it again. He had to know more about the other side, he had to know their tactics, their hideouts, their culture, their rules…

But, more importantly, he had to know more about her.

It only took Charlie a few pages to realize why Pansy had guarded the book with her life. It included incredible detail of Death Eater activity ever since Pansy was young, since before even Charlie was at Hogwarts. What seemed like simple childish entries held words and phrases that could destroy Voldemort from the inside out. It included their tactics, their strategies, their allies, their spies, their justifications and their passions. And it also included her opinions on each and every one of them, written in excruciating detail, every experience and thought broken down to specifics.

Her teenage years included more of her pining after men than Voldemort and the Death Eater's strategy, much to Charlie's dismay. In all honesty, that was the last thing that he wanted to read. Surely if anyone was immune to "Draco's manly charms" it was Pansy, but no, even she had journaled her thoughts about a certain Malfoy on a cold, cold September evening…

Charlie quickly skipped a few pages. He wanted to remember Pansy for who she was now, not who she used to be. He wanted to remember the strong, brave woman who was determined to conquer the entire Death Eater base by herself. He wanted to remember the woman who put on such a front for everyone else, but instantly melted in his arms. He wanted to remember the woman who was so afraid of trusting anyone, and yet gave him her entire heart in an entire moment, an entire heartbeat, without any reservations at all…

He looked down at the diary again. It had been a few months, and he had learned everything about her that he could. Everything that she'd trusted him with. When he first received the journal, he'd skipped to the very last entry, not discounting her past but desperate to know where her thoughts were now.

Her last entry had been about him, and his family too. She had marveled at the kindness that she had been shown, and vowed to change. She wanted to prove that they all weren't the same beneath the mask, that most of them didn't even want to do what they did, that most of them hated being there…. But she was finally brave enough to get out. Finally, she would escape the clutches that had been choking her since she was young.

He shut the journal and took a swig of coffee before returning to work, the blank parchment staring back at him before he shut it away again. He prayed that she would return to fill the final pages of her diary with a beautiful story someday, instead of the heartbreak that had littered it so far.

The story on final pages would depend on the next few days. Something big was about to happen, something tremendous and life changing. There was too much turmoil in the headlines, too many hearts bent on revenge, too many souls determined to destroy. He knew it just as sure as he knew his own name, it was just as real to him as the fire-breathing dragon in the clearing before him, just as true as the heart of the girl that had so fearlessly penned her darkest secrets and forever caged them in the pages that he held.

Yes, he thought to himself. Soon, everything would change. He had no doubt about that.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Hogwarts was timeless. There was something about its towering walls, endless portraits and history deeper than the blackest ocean that just drew a person in. Regardless of how many students passed through its walls, how much gossip floated through its corridors and how many detentions were served, one thing would always remain the same: Hogwarts was the only home that many of its students had ever known. It was constant, unmoving, a reliable force in uncertain times.

Nothing could touch it.

At least, that's what they thought.

The ambushers were as quiet as the night, invisible like a forgotten memory, silent as death and deadly as a storm. They infiltrated the supposedly invincible fortress with terrifying ease, laying to waste years and years of wards and protections. They struck when no one was expecting them, when no one was prepared, when everyone was vulnerable.

When every eye had been closed and every head rested upon a pillow, death descended upon their home.

An innocent life was taken in the darkness of Hogwarts, while the world slept a knife descended upon its victim. Life was snuffed out in an instant in the castle that had always been safe, untouchable, impregnable; and thousands of miles away a bushy-haired girl shot straight up in her bed with a blood-curdling scream, in a luxurious manor that had never been her home.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Before Hermione was even fully conscious the next day, her arm shot towards her nightstand. Her fingers clenched the newspaper that she knew would always be there, drawing it towards herself as her sleep-weary eyes slowly adjusted to the morning light. She blinked impatiently, trying to discern the blurry headlines as more than just a chaos of black and white smudges. The letters came into focus, and then the letters formed words. Finally, she could read the headlines and understand exactly what had happened to her last night.

What she found almost made her wish that she had never wondered.

She jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, not really knowing why she was so disturbed but also knowing that this feeling was impossible to ignore. It was too strong to be pushed aside this time, too sure of itself to be written off as mere coincidence or paranoia. She thundered down the stairs into the kitchen, her mom and brother looking at her with shock.

Her mother's eyes traveled down to the newspaper that Hermione clutched with both hands, skimming the headlines of the morning paper. Finally, Voldemort had made a move on Hogwarts. Finally he was going to do what he'd been threatening to do all these years. Dumbledore, the worthless fool, would be his to command or dispose of as he wished. What had taken him so long?

Mrs. Zabini's eyes traveled back from the paper to Hermione's. They were filled with pain and despair, not the simple pain that washed away with a good night's sleep. Not the kind of pain that evaporated with a gentle word or a good joke. No, there was something far deeper to this pain, something that told her the very essence of her soul would never be the same again.

Crap. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not after they had come so far.

"What is this?" Hermione demanded.

Mrs. Zabini contemplated numerous answers to her question as she shared glances with her son. She could lie to her, like she always had in the past. But something in her son's gaze told her that he also saw the fire within Hermione's eyes, the suspicion that they weren't what they appeared to be. She had to handle this delicately, had to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand.

She strode to Hermione with purpose and confidence, grabbing the paper from her and skimming the headline as if she didn't already know what had happened. She threw the paper back into the girl's hand, trying to act like it was an insignificant event in the overall scheme of things.

"The Prophet must be having a slow news day. Stuff like this happens at Hogwarts all the time, kids get into trouble, poke their noses into stuff they shouldn't-"

"But this is different, mom!" Hermione refused to believe the lies coming from her mother's mouth. "They killed them in their sleep! You can't blame this on the students, there were intruders! A dozen of them at least!" She pointed at the figure in the article just for emphasis, trying to make her mother understand.

"Why do you care so much anyway, dear? It's not as if you ever went to that school, it's not as if you know anyone there." Mrs. Zabini pointed out.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Her mother had a point. Why did she care so much? Why did she feel such an attachment to a group of individuals that she had never met? What was it about that school, that castle, that called to her so?

Again she felt a slight pressure against her brain, as if the answer to all her questions was just within her reach. Only this time it was stronger, more pressing, more urgent. Something was happening that had never happened before, there was something important about this castle, these people….

And the little girl who was killed.

She refused to let it go this time. She refused to write it off as chance, she couldn't live with herself anymore if she kept denying what she knew to be true. Something was happening, and her family was keeping her from it.

"Well, I don't know mom, why would I feel such an attachment to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked very pointedly, putting her hand on her hip just to make her point.

Her mom's expression showed nothing but indignation. "You dare to speak to your mother that way?"

Hermione stepped forward boldly. "Yes, I do, mother. If you are, in fact, my mother then you should know why I feel so strongly about this castle. You should know why I feel connected to the students there, and therefore you'd know why I was upset about this whole occurrence. So tell me, mother. Why?"

She stood mere inches from her mother's face, staring her in the eyes with more defiance and bravery than she had ever known. Her heart pounded with anxiety at the possible consequences of her decision, but she couldn't deny the aching she felt when she heard the news. And she couldn't deny the dream she'd had last night about the child who was murdered in their own bed.

No, this was too significant to write off.

In the middle of her tirade, a knock sounded at the door. Hermione huffed at the timing, wondering who in their right mind would have the gall to knock during such an epic argument.

"I'll get it…" She muttered as she turned around to answer the door, realizing that her mother had been saved from providing an answer. At least for now.

A slight girl stood in the doorway, black hair framing her long face. Her skin was olive, and yet her eyes were a striking green color. She glanced around nervously as she waited, as if she thought that any moment someone might abduct her or attack.

Although Hermione had never seen her before, the girl's eyes lit up with recognition. Those green eyes grew impossibly bright when they saw her.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked, slightly confused.

In an instant those vibrant green eyes returned to their usual emerald glaze. "I'm looking for Blaise. Is he here?"

Hermione answered, "Yes, he's here. He's just sitting down for breakfast. Are you a friend from school?"

"Yeah," she replied, trying to sound apathetic. "I'm Pansy." Hermione noticed that she fiddled with the hem of her robe, as if she was nervous. What would she be nervous about? Did she have a crush on her brother or something?

"Come on in, then." Hermione said as she moved aside, allowing the girl entrance. Pansy stepped through as naturally as if it were her own house. Clearly, she had been here before.

All hints of their previous argument melted as Mrs. Zabini smiled warmly. "Pansy, dear, it's been so long since we've seen you! How have you been?" She welcomed her with an embrace, then drawing her towards the table to have a seat.

Odd, Hermione thought. She had never seen her mother welcome anyone quite that warmly. This Pansy person must have been important indeed. Why couldn't she remember her? Surely she had seen her before, surely she had been to the house before…

"Can you believe the attack on Hogwarts? Took the Dark Lord long enough. I thought he'd never get around to it." Pansy joked as she leaned back in her chair, propping her elbow on the side of the table. She seemed so comfortable around them, so natural, so at ease.

Hermione felt sick to her stomach.

"I know! Finally he's taking advantage of the forces that he has. Finally the talent under his command is being put to good use. I swear, that school would be much better off if it would just get rid of all the mudbloods!" Mrs. Zabini exclaimed.

"Excuse me," Hermione muttered, "I need to be going. I don't… feel well…" She walked towards the stairs, unable to explain the sudden nausea in her stomach. She had heard these things all her life. She knew that purebloods were superior and mudbloods should be eliminated. Why had the arrival of this girl changed things?

"Here, let me help you." The girl offered. How strange, Hermione thought, but still it was nice of her.

Hermione lay back in bed, her head pounding and throbbing. The nausea had escalated into a full-blown sickness, and she couldn't explain why. It was like all of her senses were alerted, trying to discover something that was just beyond their reach no matter how far she stretched.

The girl followed her into her room. Funny, nobody had ever been in here before except for her family, and yet this girl felt no shame in coming and going as she pleased.

"You feel like there is more than just what is in front of you, don't you?" Pansy asked cryptically. She couldn't help but play up her role and make it a little dramatic.

Even though it wasn't her usual style, it must have worked. Hermione's eyes snapped to hers, her expression betraying her hunger for knowledge. "What do you mean? Do you know something?" Hermione asked.

Pansy walked over to her nightstand, fishing a sheet of paper out of her pocket. She laid it on Hermione's nightstand, covering up the offending article about Hogwarts.

"There is so much more to you than this house, so much more to you than the history they have brainwashed you with. And I think you know it." Pansy said, her gaze piercing Hermione to the core.

All Hermione could do was nod. Her heart screamed at her to open the piece of paper and find out what was going on, but she held back.

"If you want to find out, instructions are in that piece of paper. There are a lot of people… who miss you. There are a lot of people who want you back."

Pansy turned to leave, the weight of her words lying heavily in the air, her cryptic message leaving Hermione's head spinning. Hermione reached for the note.

"Oh, and Hermione?" Pansy turned before reaching the door.

Hermione stopped reaching and paid attention to the girl who suddenly held all the answers she so desperately needed.

"Those dreams about the red headed boy? Those aren't a coincidence either. He is real, and he is waiting for you."

Hermione could barely move, despite the adrenaline that suddenly flowed through her. There he was again, the angular features, the blue eyes, the red hair, pale complexion….

She had thought up until now that all of this was some crazy coincidence. She thought that maybe she had fabricated these images in her head at some point, and her subconscious was bringing them back up. She had wanted to write everything off as a coincidence, had wanted to just fall into the reassuring routine of what she had always known. The comfort of her closed doors and her safe home and her mindless, thoughtless obedience to her parents.

But now, she knew that there was so much more for her than this.

Before she could ask any of the questions that burned on her tongue, the girl had rounded the corner and was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Pansy didn't dare go back to Grimmauld Place after her confrontation with Hermione. That would be too obvious, and would be a deadly mistake. She would put the people she loved in danger, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

However, she had accomplished her mission. Why stay with the death eaters any longer than she had to?

She sighed as she walked down the sidewalk, trying to clear her mind. Her thoughts trailed back to Charlie, and how he had always listened to her, no matter how petty her ramblings or aimless her thoughts. Somehow, he was always there, a voice of reason in a sea of uncertainty.

She wished he could give her advice now. It was so risky to leave the death eaters, but even more risky to stay on board as a spy.

All her life, all she had ever had to worry about was herself. She hadn't given a second thought towards her family, as they hadn't given a second thought towards her. She had looked out for herself and herself only, learning how to fight and survive as she needed. Could she really change her ways at this point? Could she really turn into one of those goody-goody Gryffindors overnight, or was she stuck this way forever?

It was hard to shake decades of teaching. It was hard to resist the constant pressure, the darkness and the sheer brutality that ran rampant throughout the death eaters' world.

Could she really be anything other than what she was?

Yes, she resolved. Yes, she could. She would not live the rest of her life like this, even if it meant that her years would be cut significantly short. She would not die wondering what love was. She would not perish and never know what it meant to have a friend.

Just a little while longer, and she would be free. Just a little bit.

XXXXXXXXX

Fred's heart pounded in his chest. He almost couldn't believe that after all this searching, Hermione would be here, tonight. He almost couldn't believe that a former enemy, Pansy, was responsible for reuniting her with his family again. He almost couldn't believe that within the hour, he would be able to hold her in his arms again, and never let her go for as long as he lived.

"She should be here any minute. I left her this address as the meeting place." Pansy muttered from behind him. She had dark circles under her eyes and her voice betrayed her weariness. He knew that the past few weeks hadn't been easy on her, he knew that it was difficult for her to live her life as a double agent.

He also knew that he'd be grateful to her for the rest of his life for the work that she had done.

"However, there is something you should probably know before she gets here…" Pansy muttered to herself.

A heavy stone settled in the pit of Fred's stomach. He didn't like the way her voice sounded.

"Her memories… seem to have been tampered with. I know that she remembers you, don't ask me how, but she doesn't remember everything about you. They tried to brainwash her, tried to erase any evidence of her time with you or at Hogwarts. However, her subconscious remembers… she has dreams about you, recognized you on the front cover of the newspaper-"

"How do you know all this?" Fred asked, wondering how Pansy had gotten such access to the inside of Hermione's mind.

Pansy sighed. "The Zabinis trust me, remember? They'll tell me almost anything. Especially anything that makes them look good. Believe me, they wouldn't stop raving about the complexity of their memory spell, the thoroughness of their oblivion of her memories. However, they forgot one important thing."

Fred stared, waiting for an answer.

"Sure, they wiped her surface memories, so she doesn't remember most of her time at Hogwarts. But they didn't wipe her subconscious memories. There is something inside her that runs deeper than day-to-day life, a strong emotion that refuses to let go of the time she had there. That part of her remains untouched. That is why she dreams of you, that is why she feels such an attachment to Hogwarts."

"But… if I wanted to, say, run up to her and take her in my arms-"

"She'd probably hex you." Pansy finished Fred's thought for him.

"Right. So. Shouldn't she be here by now?"

Pansy cast a spell to check the time. Yes, the time was nearing. If she knew anything about Hermione, she knew that she'd not only be on time, but she'd be a few minutes early.

Indeed, just as she thought, a bushy-haired girl rounded the corner, her appearance slightly distorted by the darkness but completely identifiable nonetheless.

Fred's eyes lit up when he saw her. Relief flooded him, making his anxious, tense blue eyes turn into a calm ocean. It was like his whole world had been given back to him, his other half. Almost as if being with her was as natural as being alive, and being without her was a punishment more brutal than death itself.

Absently she wondered if a certain someone would ever look at her that way-

"Stupify!" A voice shouted from the darkness.

No… no, no no no this couldn't be happening! Pansy whipped out her wand and shot a spell at the general direction that the attack came from, but she couldn't be sure if she hit anything or not.

"Hermione, this way!" Pansy called. Hermione ripped her eyes away from Fred's and found her familiar ones, trusting her to lead her to the right direction.

They had to get out of here, and fast. Someone had found out about their little rendezvous and hadn't taken very kindly to it.

Immediately a black cloud engulfed Hermione. She screamed and fought it off as best as she could, but it was impossible to fight something that had no shape and constantly moved. In a split second death eaters surrounded the clearing, their wands trained on Pansy and Fred, ready for a fight.

Well, Pansy thought, so much for the double agent idea. Her loyalties were pretty obvious to the other side now.

She and Fred stood back to back, defending against the circle of death eaters the best way they knew how.

"I hope you trust me by now, ginger," Pansy teased.

Fred chuckled. "Well… you did bring Hermione back, err, almost. So I guess that counts for a little something, eh?"

Pansy took a deep breath. Despite the fact that she was surrounded by the enemy, facing impossible odds and certain death… she couldn't regret her decision. Finally, she had something to be proud of. Finally she had stood for the truth that she believed in, instead of mindlessly following orders.

Yes, if she had to go, this was a good way to do it.

She and Fred shot off spells at the same time, wounding two in the outermost circle. Death eaters descended upon them in a heartbeat, overwhelming them with spells and sending their senses into overdrive. Adrenaline pumped through her veins at the thrill of the fight, sheer instincts for survival pushed her forwards.

The earth shook and an ear-splitting crack reverberated across the alley, and in an instant the other members of the Order were fighting beside them.

The battle had begun.


	20. Chapter 20

A Christmas Wish ch. 20

Jack stared into the dancing flames in the fireplace, allowing himself to be completely consumed in its electric, heated dance. The fire cast the entire room in a dark crimson glow, creating jagged and endless shadows, just the way he liked it. It was unpredictable, never still for a moment, and completely dangerous - just like he was. He sipped his blood-red sangria, the sweetness and bitterness mingling perfectly together. Sitting in this room, sipping his favorite wine and simply watching the destructive flames had always offered clarity during a particularly turbulent time. It allowed him to clear his mind, helped him find answers to questions that seemed so complicated before.

So why wasn't it working this time?

He swirled the dark liquid in his glass, creating an infinite spiral motion. Somewhere, somewhere at the bottom of that never ending crimson drain was an answer. It certainly wasn't visible, probably wasn't even attainable, but it was there.

That was all he needed.

Why had Hermione chosen to throw away all that they had? They were happy together, he bought her everything she could ask for. She smiled and laughed with him, opened up to him like no other. Why would she throw him aside for that red-headed buffoon? Didn't she know that he was the most accomplished Death eater there was, didn't she know that very shortly he would have power unimaginable? She would never want for anything, she would be taken care of for the rest of her life.

So why would she throw it all away?

_Sweet, sweet Hermione_, he thought to himself… _I do not like to punish you. I do not enjoy seeing you in pain, seeing the anguish tearing across your face when another one of your loved ones passes away. But I must do this. You must understand that this is only for your own good. You must understand… I do this only out of love for you._

_ I know what is best for you, sweetness. I am tired of you running from me, tired of having to chase you. Tired of these childish antics._

_I have had enough of these games._

_Soon, sweetness, I will make you mine._

XXXXXXXX

Harry knew that he had been born for this moment. He knew that ever since he had miraculously survived the Avada Kedavra so many years ago in Godric's Hollow that one day, he would have to face the man who tried to destroyed him. He had been told this ever since he was 11, he understood the legend better than anyone else. He had discovered all the curses, prophecies, horcruxes, loopholes, and secrets that everyone had tried so hard to hide.

Still, that knowledge did nothing to quell the anxiousness building inside of him, or prepare him for the sheer brutality of battle.

The murder of the Hogwarts student a few nights ago was only a pre-emptive strike. Two nights later, massive force descended upon the castle. Harry had never seen so many death eaters together before, had never seen the students so frightened, had never seen his seemingly fearless professors shake when they heard the battle cries from across the bridge.

Harry thought about how little he truly knew, despite how much he had accomplished. That night, Harry realized that despite all of his adventures, he had never seen a lot of things. He had never understood a desperation this intense, a loyalty this unbreakable, and a fear this gripping. His emotions swirled like a whirlwind, causing adrenaline to pump through his veins. His scar throbbed, pulsed, hammered with urgency.

All their work, all their preparation had led to this.

He only hoped that it would be enough.

XXXXXXXXXX

"What do you mean, they're attacking Hogwarts?" Fred asked in a panic. He and Pansy took cover behind a brick building, sending spells flying around the corner whenever they had a spare moment.

"I mean exactly what I said, you buffoon! The final attack on Hogwarts is happening now! Don't you Weasleys ever pay attention?" Pansy shot a spell over her shoulder, a stream of red light coursed from her wand and a scream of agony was ripped from somewhere in the distance.

"But how do you know?" Fred asked incredulously.

"I'm a spy, remember? I hear things. While looking for Hermione, I stumbled across plans for the attack. I know every move they're going to try and every strategy they have." Pansy said with a conspiring smirk.

Fred shot another spell around the corner, keeping the death eaters at bay. "Well, shouldn't you be at Hogwarts then? It sounds like you would be a lot more use to them than you are to me. No offense, of course."

Pansy shook her head. "None taken. Hogwarts will need as many extra hands as it can get, but so will you. They purposefully planned this so that we'd have to split our forces. If you think about it, Hermione is one of our best casters, so it only makes sense to attack while we don't have her. By drawing several of us to this meeting spot tonight, it forces us to leave Hogwarts relatively unguarded."

Fred swore under his breath. It was a good plan, he had to admit, but Pansy was absolutely right. Hogwarts was more important to defend right now. Harry and his quest needed to come first. If Harry failed, there would be no hope for any of them anymore.

"Pansy, take the rest of the Order and get to Hogwarts."

She looked at him in shock. "You can't be serious. You can't handle this many death eaters, you don't know what they can do!"

Fred shook his head, "I can handle it! I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. Trust me, they won't know what hit them."

Pansy looked at him skeptically. "There are more than a dozen of them, Fred. You can't… I mean, even with several of us, it's hard for us to… you can't just-"

Fred chuckled, "This is the first time I believe I've ever seen you at a loss for words, Pans. Getting a little attached to us loveable Weasleys, eh?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You're still the same even in the face of imminent death. Fine, I'll go to Hogwarts and I'll take the Order with me. But you have to promise me something."

Fred shrugged. "Whatever."

Pansy took a deep breath. "Promise that you'll make it out of this alive. Charlie… Charlie would never forgive me if I left you to die. And… I'm not sure that I'd ever be able to forgive myself, either."

Fred smiled a little. Pansy had been such a pain to him for so long, but now he was beginning to see what Charlie saw in her. Maybe the death eaters' hold on her didn't reach quite so far as she thought.

"I will. Now, get out of here. I've got a damsel to save." Fred agreed.

Pansy nodded, gave him one last look, and then darted off to the other members of the Order. Within seconds, Fred heard the crack of apparition, and they were gone.

Now, the only thing standing between him and Hermione were a couple dozen death eaters.

XXXXXXXX

As soon as Pansy arrived at Hogwarts, she told Harry and the other members of the Order exactly what she knew about the death eaters' battle plans. They had giants, wild men, and trained assassins just ready to breach the sacred walls of their fortress. She knew that the wild men would be at the front lines, followed by giants, then finally the death eaters and Voldemort themselves. Voldemort would not risk his precious inner circle unless absolutely necessary, she knew that much for certain.

"Wait, wait, wait…" Ron interrupted her debriefing and stepped forward. "It's great that we have inside information about their attack plan and everything, but don't forget that this is Pansy talking to us. Pansy Parkinson, remember? The girl who tormented us for ages? The girl who up until a couple of months ago hated every last one of us?"

"Now, Ron, that's not true-" Harry started to say.

"No, Harry, you let me finish." Harry looked shocked, but did as Ron demanded.

"Think about it. All we have to go on is her word that she's on our side. What if she's not, really? What if she's still working for Voldemort? Sure, she says that she helped to free Hermione, but what if she didn't? What if she just led Fred and the others straight into a trap? I mean, we can't really know for sure, can we?"

The silence that followed was thicker than any other that Harry had experienced, including the time he broke Dudley's television set. He could see the fire burning behind Pansy's eyes, could practically feel the anger radiating off of her in waves. Ron had somehow always managed to push Pansy's buttons, and this time he succeeded fantastically.

The situation could easily spiral out of control.

Pansy's voice, low and barely controlled, easily filled up the silence. "I risk my life for you and your friends, and this is the thanks I get? I endure torture and pain unimaginable just to bring Hermione back to you ungrateful cretins, and all you can do is question whether I'm loyal or not?"

Ron awkwardly shuffled his feet. He desperately searched for something to say, but came up with nothing.

"If I had any doubt about where my true allegiance was, I sure wouldn't have wasted so much time with you people. I sure wouldn't have stuck my neck out for you all, not only bringing Hermione back but bringing back battle plans as well. I would have killed you all in your sleep a long time ago, so quickly you wouldn't even be able to fight back."

Harry shrugged. "She has a point there, Ron."

Ron didn't make any indication that he had heard. He was turning positively bright red, obviously embarrassed by his initial outburst.

"Oh and, one more thing." Pansy stepped towards him, her eyes positively alight with fire. "I am so sick of your holier-than-thou attitude. Ever since I've started living with your family, I've had nothing but trouble from you! You think the Order is so much more righteous than the death eaters, on a completely different playing field, socialites to a society of Neanderthals, but they're not! The death eaters have never treated me with the hostility that you just showed me. They have never publicly humiliated me after I went above and beyond to show my loyalties. Never once would they have scarred me with the words that you just used, never once would they turn their back on me if I needed them."

She pointed her finger at him, holding the unflinching focus of the entire crowd.

"You are far more cruel to me than they ever were."

The group stood perfectly still, the weight of Pansy's words still pinning them to their places. As much as Harry hated to admit it, he knew that she had a point. He knew that the death eaters were people just like he was, with goals and ambitions and dreams and families. He knew that they would fight to the death for what they believed in and what they loved, and he knew that more than one innocent person would die just because they picked the wrong side.

However, he also knew that there was one thing fundamentally different between the two groups.

"Why is it that you left the death eaters, Pansy?" Harry spoke up, resolving the situation in the only way he knew how.

Pansy shrugged. "Because they're wrong. It's not right to kill and torture someone just for the sake of their status. It's not right to treat someone like they're less than human. That's no way to live."

"And are you willing to fight people who were once your family for the sake of this belief?" Harry asked boldly, knowing what her answer would be.

"Of course I am. I'll do whatever I need to do to bring them down." She answered.

Harry nodded appreciatively. "That is all anyone needs to be a member of this group. Anyone who disagrees can take it up with me."

Pansy and Ron glanced awkwardly at each other, and then backed away. It seemed the situation had been resolved, at least for now. Harry sighed in relief, he had much bigger problems to worry about. He knew that if they couldn't even trust each other on the battlefield, the death eaters would tear them apart easily.

He only hoped that if it came down to it, Pansy and Ron would be able to trust each other.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fred knew that opening his own joke shop was an ambitious feat. He knew that he would have to research spells more thoroughly than he ever had before, because many of his jokes could be hazardous if they were performed incorrectly. He worked and he studied harder than he ever had in school, and in the end, it paid off. Not only did he have several branches of the joke shop open across the globe, but he also had a considerable knowledge of spells.

He shot a spark spell at a group of death eaters and immediately a plume of smoke consumed them. While they were disoriented, Fred ducked from his cover behind the brick wall and moved across the street, flattening his back against another adjacent building. One death eater impatiently cast a spell to clear away the smoke, but Fred had already successfully moved.

"You can't run forever, Weasel boy," One of them called out. Fred knew better than to taunt in return, they could easily pinpoint his location from the sound of his voice.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out some fireworks. He had hoped that if they'd successfully gotten Hermione back, he could have whisked her away to a private lake or park and they'd shoot them off together, late into the night. At least they would still serve a purpose.

He lit them all and tossed them into the alley, a barrage of shots and sparks flew everywhere as they exploded gloriously. Above the whistling of the fireworks he heard several death eaters scream out in agony. The wind carried the smell of burning flesh to his nostrils, he knew that he must have gotten several of them from the sheer intensity of it.

Suddenly, Fred heard an alarm ringing out. He heard the remaining death eaters chatter for a second, and then heard the telltale pop of apparition. Could it be that they had been called to the battle at Hogwarts? Could it be that this was really that easy?

Or could it be a trap?

Fred gingerly stepped from behind his cover, keeping his wand at the ready to shoot any spells if he needed to. His eyes skimmed the smoky alley, looking for any sign of life. His heart leaped into his throat as he saw Hermione walking through the mist, unscathed and unharmed. Finally, he would have her back. Finally, she would be his again.

After this, he swore that he would never let her go.

"Hermione, quick, come this way-"

Immediately a spell shot from Hermione's wand at Fred. Fred barely had the wherewithal to deflect the spell before it hit him.

"Hermione, what are you-"

Another spell launched from the tip of her wand to him, this one aimed to kill. He deflected it, but not without some trouble. Hermione was a talented spell caster.

"Hermione, stop! Don't you remember me at all? Don't you remember Pansy's note to meet here?" Fred tried desperately to jog her memory, but nothing seemed to work.

"What are you talking about? I'm here to get rid of you blood traitors." Hermione barked, her voice riddled with anger and vehemence.

Fred's heart sank lower in his chest than it had in years. This couldn't be happening, not when he was so close, not when he had come so far.

"I work for Voldemort, and Voldemort only. I always have. That means that you and I are enemies. He wants you dead, and I am here to carry out his wishes."

All the light left Fred's eyes. His Hermione, his perfect, beautiful Hermione had been brainwashed so thoroughly that she didn't even know what she believed anymore.

Hating himself for raising his wand against the only witch he'd ever truly loved, he prepared himself for battle.

XXXXXXXX

"That was a clever thing to do, Harry," Ginny's voice sounded from behind him. "I feared the situation would have escalated if you didn't say something."

Harry turned around, tearing his focus away from his battle plans. His pulse quickened just a little bit at the sight of her, a phenomenon he still really didn't understand.

"Are you sure you're okay to fight, Ginny? I mean, it wasn't long ago that-"

"Oh, Harry, give it a rest already. I know that you're worried about me, but I'm fine. I know how to handle myself." Ginny interrupted him, refusing to be treated like a damsel in distress any longer.

Harry sighed. "I know that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself Ginny, I just… I don't want to lose you again. I mean, when you were gone, it was like… it was like your entire family just shut down. Your mum got so depressed, although she did her best to hide it, and things just weren't the same."

Ginny timidly glanced down at her shoes, but then fearlessly met his gaze once more. "What about… you?"

Harry was slightly confused. "What do you mean?"

Ginny tilted her head to the side. "The rest of the family wasn't the same, you said, but… what about you?"

Harry awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Well, I mean, of course I worried about you. I had no idea what those death eater scum were planning on doing to you, no idea what you might have to go through. We didn't even know if we'd see you alive again."

Ginny tightened her lips a little and nodded, then forced a smile. Obviously it wasn't the answer that she was looking for.

"Right, well, it won't happen again. I'll stick with everyone else, nobody will get separated this time. So there's nothing to worry about." She tried to reassure him, despite the slight disappointment that lingered in her heart.

Harry nodded. "Good. You should go get ready with the others."

Ginny nodded, that same disappointment filling her heart once again. She turned around and left Harry to his privacy, hoping that all of them would make it out of this alive.

Maybe… maybe all this time she had just been kidding herself, and he didn't really feel the same way.

Harry tried to get back to his work, but once again, his thoughts were interrupted, this time by someone who he didn't have quite as much affection for.

"Man, for a boy who's supposed to save the world, you sure can be dense, Potter." Malfoy drawled from nearby.

Harry rolled his eyes, aggravated at yet another interruption. "Is this really the time, Malfoy?"

Draco walked closer to him, his confident swagger matching his tone of voice. "You know, I really think it is, Potter. As you probably know, I have had quite a bit of experience with the ladies-"

"What are you getting at, Draco?" Harry snapped impatiently. He really didn't have the patience to deal with Malfoy's schemes.

"-and I know how to read them, apparently a lot better than you do," Malfoy continued, completely unaffected by Harry's impatience. "That Weasley girl is absolutely infatuated with you. If you have any feelings at all for her, well, now would be a perfect time to show them."

"Are you joking, Malfoy? I have all this work to do, we have death eaters on our doorstep, the world hangs on my decisions here, and you want me to go on a date?" Harry asked incredulously.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, you dolt! I swear, how do people like you end up with all the glory anyways? You don't have enough brains to see what's right in front of you. I mean that there's a very good likelihood that you or she will not make it out of this alive. I mean that this may be the only chance you ever get to tell someone that you love them. You think that this isn't the time for such things, but really, Potter, there's no better time."

Harry hated to admit it, but something in his words got through to him. He never thought he'd be taking love advice from Draco, but he understood where the man was coming from. Maybe he shouldn't be spending his precious last hours drawing up potential strategies. Maybe he needed to spend them with the people he cared about the most.

"Just… just think about it, Potter." Malfoy offered as he walked off.

Harry gazed at his battle plans, a map of Hogwarts covered with scribbles almost as chaotic as his own thoughts. He took a deep breath, immediately feeling more calm and refreshed from the simple action. He turned at the man walking away, noticing for the first time how very exhausted Draco looked.

"What about you, Malfoy?" Harry called. Draco turned at the sound of his voice, his familiar sneer back on his face.

"What do you mean, Potter?" Draco asked.

"Who will you spend your final hours with?" Harry asked boldly, taking a chance on someone who had so long been his worst enemy.

Draco laughed and shook his head a little bit, glancing at the floor. He sighed and looked through an enormous window, his eyes barely discerning his father's electric white hair and his mother's brown frosted hair. They stood right next to Voldemort, ready to demolish the place that Draco had called his home for so long. Something came over his gaze then – was it regret, affection, hate, indifference? Harry couldn't really tell.

"My family died a long time ago, Potter. Those things standing out there are just dark and bitter shells of the people they used to be. I guess, in that regard… we're alike."

Draco shifted his feet and turned abruptly, suddenly uncomfortable with this abrupt camaraderie. Despite the awkwardness, he was glad for that little moment, glad that Potter's last memory of him would be a pleasant one, instead of all the times Draco was an arse to him.

"Thanks, Draco." Harry said quietly, just loud enough for Malfoy to hear him.

"Anytime, Scarhead," Draco answered nonchalantly as he strode away.

XXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Can you guys believe we made it to chapter 20? Jumps up and down in celebration. It's hard to believe I started this during my sophomore year in college. Anyways, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I really love getting your feedback, reviews are like cupcakes for writers.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Sorry for the delay everyone, my old laptop has passed away I usually don't throw in song references with my fics, but if you would like to look up some music, then A Beautiful Storm by Jennifer Thomas fits the mood of this chapter perfectly. This is a pretty intense chapter, so I'd love to know what everyone thinks. Everything that happens in this chapter has been planned from the very beginning. Thanks for reading!**

A Christmas Wish Ch. 21

Pansy stared at her hands, tracing the crisscross pattern of razor thin scars that had become achingly familiar through the years. She sat on a piece of rubble inside of Hogwarts, every so often a blast from outside brought a new piece of rubble crashing to the floor. She watched as her friends gathered together, spending their last few moments in the only way they knew how. They ran from person to person, some of them frantically strategizing for the battle, some of them saying tearful final goodbyes, and some of them simply drifting off to be by themselves.

It was amazing how much you could tell about a person, simply from their behavior when they knew they were about to die.

It was during these moments that Pansy felt the most desire to write, to organize her chaotic thoughts into something resembling a coherent idea. She wanted everyone to get a glimpse into her world, a snapshot of this point in time, a permanent record of this memory. It was these moments when her emotions swirled and built on each other, demanding to be heard, desperate to be released. She had never known fear, had never known love, had never known selflessness and joy like she did at that moment.

Instinctively she reached for her journal, wanting to indulge one last time in the only pleasure that had sustained her for all these years. Her hand faltered when she realized it wasn't there anymore, no, her deepest innermost thoughts were no longer hers to control. Her dark secrets and wildest dreams were now the responsibility of someone else, someone strong and brave, someone who was more than she could ever be.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill of loneliness that had suddenly overcome her. Funny, she had never been the type to miss anyone, had never been the one who needed companionship. The desire for love was a luxury that she could never afford, a benefit that was just too far beyond her reach. All of that had been thrown to the wind, though, when a little bit of love was shown to her.

She leaned back against the cold wall and gazed towards the immense ceiling. Tonight it was charmed to look like the stars, each tiny little light blinking at her, completely oblivious to the peril taking place on earth. None of them by themselves were particularly remarkable, none of them stood out. However, when viewed all together, it created a beautiful sight that was unlike anything else in the world. She wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was looking at the same stars that she was.

Her eyes landed on a particular star, whose light was slightly weaker than the rest of the others. She didn't know why she was drawn to it, didn't understand why her gaze didn't just pass by it like all the others. It flickered spastically, like the heart rate of a patient on the very edge of death. With one last flash, it was consumed by the darkness.

There was no sign that it had ever existed.

"Don't forget me," she whispered to no one in particular. "I don't want to fade into nothingness. Don't forget…"

XXXXXXXX

Jack had to admit, sometimes he really outdid himself.

He watched his beautiful Hermione dueling the redheaded punk that she so vehemently claimed to love – a bout of delusion, no doubt, her memories were still very fragile – with a considerable amount of joy. He drank in the expression on the boy's face, wreathed and torn with excruciating agony. He absorbed the ruthless barbarism with which Hermione attacked, the precise, unflinching determinism with which she struck to kill. He watched the gray, desolate smog flowing around them, suffocating their hope away, filling the small space in the cold, deserted alleyway…

It was absolutely beautiful, like something from a painting.

"Hermione, please! You have to remember!"

Ah, the anguish rang so clearly in the boy's voice. Such fear and desperation, sheer passion and fire. He couldn't have planned this better had he written the script and told them exactly what to say.

"Stop trying to distract me, boy! I know what I have to do!"

Hermione attacked with a brutality that Jack had thought incapable from her, and yet, he found himself all the more drawn to her because of it. She was dangerous, she was not to be trifled with, she was strong.

That made controlling her all the sweeter.

He knew that it would only be a matter of time before the boy's resolve wavered, before his bright blue eyes began to dim as he finally realized that there would be no saving her. When he realized that she would be the one to take his life, that all of this had been a trap that he willingly walked into. When all the conflict and confusion made sense, and he understood exactly how this story would end.

Jack couldn't wait for that moment.

Any second now, and it would all be over.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry wondered if this was how his mother and father had felt when they knew that they were going to die, when they knew that Voldemort had found them and all had been lost. He wondered if they felt the gut-wrenching pain as everything they loved was torn away from them, one piece at a time. He wondered if their legs quaked every time an attack hit the house, if their heartbeat skyrocketed at every miniscule noise, if their adrenaline pumped through their veins quicker than any drug ever could.

He wondered if they were as terrified as he was, or if they faced it with bravery and determination.

Harry took heart in the fact that his friends were there to protect him, however, he couldn't help but worry for them at the same time. He knew that some wouldn't make it through, he knew that lives would be forever changed because of what happened tonight. And despite how many times people told him it wasn't his fault, despite how many times they told him that they were fighting Voldemort and he just happened to be an ally, he couldn't help but feel responsible for everything that happened.

He knew that he would never be able to shake the memories of this night.

He had fought for his life several times before, and he had been in many deadly situations. He had faced terrors that most people only had nightmares about, and he had done it all before he was seventeen. However, nothing quite compared to the immensity of the task before them, nothing really felt quite so final or determined. Everything he had experienced up until that point was simply a warm up for this moment, preparation for his final test.

In a flash, the army was upon them, and the war truly began.

XXXXXXXXX

Fred's lungs gasped for air. His muscles ached and screamed with every movement, his feet dragged with every step, and his attacks slowed with every passing second. The fighting had taken its toll on him, had worn him out considerably.

Hermione, however, seemed completely unaffected by the battle. Her breathing was as steady and unflinching as her loyalty, her attacks as accurate and precise as her answers in class, and her movements quicker than her wit. Any normal person would be exhausted by now, would be barely hanging onto their desire to fight.

What had this bastard done to her?

Fred knew that he was running out of time. He knew that he was fighting a losing battle, he knew that her skills far outmatched his. He tried to think of something, anything he could do that would trigger her memories. He ransacked his brain for any reference to a memory spell, anything that could help him, absolutely desperate to save the only thing he truly loved.

However, in his state, it took all of his effort simply to remain on his feet.

In a flash, Hermione disarmed him, and his wand flew into the distance. His wand hit the ground, releasing an abrupt clatter as the wood annihilated the pavement. His heart sank into his chest as he realized that this was finally all over, he had failed her, he had promised her so much, but in the end he was just a failure. He was just another boy didn't keep his promises.

Hermione chuckled, the sound foreign and vindictive from her sweet mouth. "Getting tired already, boy? Fine, let's make things interesting."

Fred's head snapped up as he heard her wand hit the ground. He watched it soar through the air and land on the ground several yards away with his own eyes, and yet it was still so hard to believe. She stood before him, completely defenseless, the fog radiating around her like some sort of war goddess.

What could this mean? Was she giving up? Was she going to let him go? Fred felt his hope begin to build as he thought that maybe, just maybe, everything would be fine after all.

A sinister grin snuck across Hermione's face, and immediately Fred's hopes vanished.

She pulled a knife from her belt, the cruel metal glinting in the pale moonlight. It was several inches long, not long enough to be a sword but much more than a simple kitchen knife. She twirled it experimentally a couple of times with an ease that only came from years of practice. She tossed it up and down effortlessly, almost as if it were a toy.

Fred squelched any more curiosity about Hermione's newfound combat skills, and quickly grabbed a trash can lid that was lying in the alley. It wasn't a great defense, but it was better than nothing.

Hermione watched him as he brandished his shield as best he knew how, a chuckle escaping her lips. How elementary, how crude.

She lunged with insane speed, Fred barely had enough time to protect his face from her deadly blade. He stepped back from the sheer force of the impact, his trash can lid releasing a horrible screech from the abrupt contact. She leaped away as quickly as she attacked, regaining her footing, readying herself for another strike.

Fred could have sworn he caught the slightest scent of her perfume. It was so achingly familiar, so reminiscent of a time when they thought they had all the time in the world. It brought him back to a time when he was simply Fred the prankster, and she was still just Hermione the bookworm. Things were so simple, so straightforward, so… normal.

He wished he could go back to those days, when being with her was as natural as breathing.

She struck again, and again all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms. She was within his reach, so tantalizingly close to him now. It would be so simple, it would be so quick –

THWACK!

Fred was reminded of the time they had fought in his mother's kitchen, wielding spoons and spatulas instead of deadly knives. Back then they were simply two people in the same house, but time had watched them grow into so much more. He smiled when he thought of the way she'd looked after he'd soaked her with the sink, and then how triumphant she was when she watched his mother scolding him-

BOOM!

He remembered her by the riverside when he'd taken her horseback riding, the way she clenched her hands with nervousness before she made the confession that turned his world upside down.

POW!

He remembered how angry she was when she'd needed him the most and he simply abandoned her. He remembered how she distanced herself from him when he'd broken his promise. He thought then that he had lost her forever, and fought with everything he had to make it up to her. He remembered how she had closed herself off to him for so long, but eventually let him back in again. He didn't understand that level of forgiveness, couldn't see how she could be so selfless and understanding.

THUD!

He remembered when she told him she was ready for a relationship. He remembered how his heart had soared and he swore he would never let her down again, never let anyone hurt her like he himself had so many times before.

CRUNCH!

He remembered how she screamed when he took the knife for her, how all he could think about through the blinding pain was how he wanted her to get out, to be safe, even if he didn't make it. If she was safe, if she could get away from that blasted attack, then it was all worth it.

Here, at the end of all things, all that he wanted was to be close to her one more time. All he wanted was to make one last memory, to leave her with something more than the empty, aching hole that now existed in her heart.

Abruptly he threw away the trash can, not even flinching when the metal clanged harshly against the black pavement.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The fog swirled around them eerily and Hermione stared, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. He knew that she probably thought it was some sort of trick, some sort of ploy that would lure her in only to finish her off. He was sure that Jack had told her nothing about sacrifices, nothing about friendship, and certainly nothing about love. Of course she wouldn't recognize what he was doing, but it didn't matter.

"I can't fight you, Hermione. I guess… I guess I never really could." Fred confessed.

He held his arms out, feeling incredibly vulnerable and terrified against the brutality before him but also knowing that she was the only thing he wanted in the world.

To his surprise, Hermione did not launch forward with terrifying speed to slit his throat. She didn't pounce like a lioness upon its prey. Instead, she stepped forward tentatively, her harsh expression softening into something more familiar, something more distinctly Hermione. Recognition flashed beneath her cold, hard eyes. The hand holding her knife faltered for a split second, her gaze wavered. She shook her head, trying to clear the conflicting thoughts in her mind.

In a split second, however, her anger flashed back across her features, completely replacing Fred's last glimpse of his Hermione.

Her knife hand strengthened, the blade pointed directly at Fred's stomach. Her eyes filled with hate and distrust, her legs ready to spring away if this proved to be a trap. He saw the knife aimed for him and knew what would happen, but he refused to step away. He had run before, he had let his cowardness overtake his love. This time, he would not let her down. This one last thing he could do for her, he could be for her in death what he never was in life. His eyes never left hers, never looked away, never doubted.

Even when the knife pierced his stomach, even when pain tore through his entire body, still he did not look away.

Finally, she was so close he could reach out and touch her. Finally she was so close that he could smell her, feel her breath on his cheek, gaze into her eyes and see the fire and spirit that so many people missed.

Before she could even pull the knife out of his stomach and ready herself for another attack, Fred grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into him. He wrapped his arms around her, not caring that doing so drove the blade even further into his stomach. He had to touch her again, he had to hold her, he had to protect her in the only way that he knew how.

He was surprised that she didn't tense, surprised that she didn't try to fight. He pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, and saw the softness and gentleness of her features slowly returning. His Hermione was so close to him now.

He felt his life bleeding out of him, felt the wound demanding that he lay down, felt his eyelids grow heavier. He knew that it was critical and knew that he probably wouldn't make it out of this alive. He only had these precious few moments with her, these last few moments to show her how much she meant to him.

His heart racing for reasons entirely unrelated to blood loss, he slowly brought his face closer to hers. Her eyes widened in surprise, and yet, she didn't pull away, didn't try to fight the undeniable connection she had to him. Fred was terrified that any second now she would revert back to brutality and finish the job, and yet she never did. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was a part of her that still belonged totally and completely to him.

Maybe there was a part of her that would always belong to him.

He couldn't help his sudden intake of breath when his lips finally met hers. He couldn't explain the rush that overwhelmed his entire body, that shook him from his head to his toes. He didn't know why he was suddenly so incredibly aware of her slender frame pressed into his, the heat between their bodies becoming an unquenchable flame. He didn't understand how he could still feel so much passion and so much desire for this girl when he could barely even hold onto reality. He didn't know how he could be on death's doorstep and still be able to think of her, only of her, and nothing else.

He could spend the rest of his life kissing her.

He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, wanting everything that she could give before he left the world entirely. He wished that they'd have more time together, that he could wake up to this kiss every day, and come home to it every night. He wanted a life with her, wanted to have children and grow old together, like everyone else had the opportunity to do. It seemed, however, that fate had something different in mind for them.

It didn't really matter though, in the end. He'd rather have this time with Hermione than have decades with anybody else.

This was the most he could give her, this was all he could do. He felt what little strength he had left leave his body, he felt his muscles refusing to obey his commands. He felt his breathing slow, felt his arms loosen around Hermione, and watched the world turn to black.

The last thing he remembered seeing was her face, full of panic and worry, as her eyes darted between his face and the wound in his stomach. Recognition flashed brightly in those brilliant eyes of hers, and she opened her mouth to scream.

Even now, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

He just wished, more than anything, that he had been able to save her.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Hey kids! One VERY important thing to keep in mind during this chapter… this fic DOES have a happy ending. So no worries Also, if you want a good song for Fred/Hermione's encounter, "Kiss it Better" by He is We is a pretty good match. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 22

Charlie should have known that it would be completely futile to simply sit back while Pansy walked into the enemy's den. He should have known that it wasn't his personality to sit by while a war was being fought, to let the enemy simply take over everything that he cared about. He had thought, rather foolishly, that maybe by distancing himself from the rest of his family, he could go back to his world. He thought that he could move on, he thought that he could forget.

He was absolutely wrong.

He ran through Hogwarts, his senses heightened to every twitch, every motion, every noise. Smoke dimmed his vision and filled his lungs, making breathing trickier but not impossible. The smell of fire, burning wood and paintings, filled his lungs. More powerful than this, though, was the smell of burning flesh, the screams of the dying, and the bodies (were they really bodies? Sometimes it was hard to tell exactly what the lumps were) that lay in the middle of the hallway everywhere he looked.

No, he had been a fool for thinking he could simply leave this all behind.

At every turn he squinted for any sight of his friends and family, strained his ears for any cry of help from a recognizable voice. Every time a shot rang out through the night sky, he wondered who would be destroyed in its wake, wondered if they would even feel anything. His heart pounded when he saw a shock of bright red hair, only to realize it was some other unfortunate soul. He couldn't help but feel grateful that it wasn't someone from his family, however cruel it seemed. It was selfish, he knew, but he didn't know what he would do if one of his family members passed away.

He also couldn't help but feel relieved after realizing that none of the black-haired, petite females had a face that he knew. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if… if…

He wasn't going to think about it. He would get there in time. He would protect them, he would especially protect her. He didn't care about the curse that lay on her, the one that forced her to do Voldemort's bidding. He had no idea what would happen if she refused, what would happen when Voldemort realized whose side she was really fighting for. But he knew that he had to be there, he at least had to try.

He couldn't just let her go after she had shown such trust in him, such a frail, tenuous and precious gift it was. He had to show her that some people were still worth believing in, some people still stood by their word. There was still some good left in the world, and it was absolutely worth fighting for.

XXXXXXXX

Pansy knew it was only a matter of time before the curse caught up with her. With every spell she shot at a Death Eater, she felt her strength leaving her. She felt her limbs grow weak, felt her muscles slowing, felt her breathing become haggard and desperate. She had felt these symptoms many a time before in her more rebellious acts, however, never quite to this degree.

She wondered how long it would take before the curse finished her off completely.

Her parents told her when she was younger that it was to protect her. It was to keep her in the good graces of Voldemort, who could keep her safe from almost anything, as long as he still looked upon her with favor. Her parents had good intentions, however, they were also severely twisted at the same time. It was intended to provide her with a safe haven should something happen to her parents, to provide her with a place to go home to.

How ironic.

She dodged a curse, her reflexes just a smidge slower than they normally were. To be honest, she didn't know what would happen when she completely rejected the will of Voldemort. She didn't know the specifics of the curse, for the spell placed upon her had been purposefully vague. It didn't seem fair that her parents would place her under the influence that could change at the whim of fate, but not many things were fair anyways. The only thing that was fair, the only thing that was just, was the battle right now. There was justice in delivering punishment to those who had dealt so much punishment to her, there was fairness in killing a Death Eater in return for killing an innocent. There was truth, fairness, and, most importantly, there was revenge.

No, she finally had something to fight for. She wouldn't back down now just because she had no idea what kind of death awaited her at the end.

Pansy darted behind a column in the Great Hall, a green spell ricocheting off of the cold cement. She didn't need to look twice to see what kind of a spell it was, what it was meant to do. The Death Eaters did not intend on taking prisoners, they did not intend to keep anyone around for interrogation or for their sick games.

They were here to kill. They wanted nothing left behind, just emptiness.

She darted from behind her cover, knowing that lingering there too long would only result in a quick and quiet assassination. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a spell flying her way, thank goodness it wasn't a green one. Maybe they recognized her, and didn't want to kill her outright?

No, that was stupid. If they recognized her fighting for the other side, all hell would break loose.

She pushed herself to get away from the spell, but she knew she was too slow. Any other day, she could have dodged it with ease. If it were any other attack, she could have deflected it with no problem. However, the curse was catching up with her. She couldn't do this forever, she couldn't keep this up.

Just as she thought the curse was going to hit her, she felt a body smash into her and push her into the rubble that she had so been striving to reach. She felt her breath abruptly leave her lungs as she hit the stone floor, felt a bruise forming on her side. But, more than that, she felt arms wrapped around her, protecting her, keeping her safe from anything that would try to hurt her.

She would know those arms anywhere.

"I thought that surely by now you would have moved on from tackling teenaged girls," Pansy joked, not being able to help the smile that crossed her face.

"I guess I was in the mood for some nostalgia, bring back the old times, you know?" Charlie smiled back at her. His face was covered in soot and grime, and he stunk of carnage and sweat, but still, Pansy had never been so happy to see anyone.

She looked around, seeing the others who hadn't been so lucky, the ones who had no one to come to their rescue. They lay on the outskirts of the great hall, some being tended to by healers, some simply left to die because their wounds were so severe.

"I don't think we can ever bring back the old times, Charlie. Not now, anyways." Pansy pointed out.

Charlie pursed his lips and looked downward, knowing that she was right. This would change everything, one way or another.

"How are you? The curse, I mean… is it taking its toll?" Charlie asked, raising his voice above the chaos and clamor.

"I… I feel it. I'm not as quick as I once was, my spells aren't as powerful. I'm not sure how long it'll be before it takes over and I'm completely useless." She answered, her eyes downcast.

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe… maybe you should just sit this one out. Let us finish off old Voldy, while you stay somewhere safe."

Pansy vehemently shook her head. "I've been running all my life, Charlie. I'm not playing that game anymore."

Charlie's eyes darkened, he had wanted so desperately for her to just stay safe. He didn't want to lose her, not now, not when they were so close. "Even if it means giving up your life, Pans?"

Pansy grit her teeth and nodded, her eyes alit with the fire of determination.

Charlie chuckled a little bit. "I should have known better than to try and talk you out of it. Listen, about the curse, actually, I was reading about it in your journal and I thought that maybe-"

BOOM!

"He's here! He's here! He's-"

A scream of warning was cut off abruptly as a spell flew through the air, and immediately Pansy cried out as pain shot through her. Just his presence was enough to bring her to her knees, just his presence made the simple act of breathing almost unbearable.

It's just pain, she told herself. You can overcome this.

Screams of terror continued to ring out, students and professors ran in a panic. They had heard stories about Voldemort's presence, how it brings despair and a darkness unparalleled by anything else. They had heard about his cruelty, his ruthlessness, and his brutal efficiency, but had never encountered it face to face. It proved to be too much for most of them, and they ran to the safest places they could think of.

But there were a few students who didn't run, there were a few who stood by their cause even in the face of imminent danger.

Harry, of course, stood at the forefront. This was what he was born to do, this was what he had spent years training for. Finally, he would see vengeance for not only his mom and dad, but for everyone else that had fallen because of Voldemort's cruelty. Sirius, Cedric, Dobby, all of them… they would all see their vengeance tonight.

Ron stood next to his best friend, proving once and for all that it was impossible to separate them, even in the face of overwhelming danger and fear. Not many of Harry's friends had been willing to plunge into danger the way that Ron had, not many had been willing to give up everything for the cause when the time came. He had been with him through almost everything, and refused to back down now.

Ginny stood on Harry's other side, her bravery and love overwhelming. She stood tall and faced an evil so ancient and so pure without even flinching, not many people could look it straight in the eyes with challenge and determination. She had withstood the death eater's torture, and yet here she was, facing the same risks all over again for the sake of the people she loved.

The rest of the Weasleys were also there, providing their support until the end, except for Fred and Charlie. Neville and Luna also stood with them, along with a handful of Gryffindors that Pansy didn't recognize.

She knew then, watching them all band together when it mattered the most, that she had picked the right side.

She tried to still the beating in her heart, tried to quell the anxiety that built in her system every passing minute. She could practically feel Voldemort's presence, his sinister evil and his desperation, and his vile snake Nagini trailing slowly behind.

XXXXXXXX

Rain poured around her, the sound giving voice to the feelings that desperately wanted to be freed. She felt her hair plaster to her face, her clothes stick to her everywhere, the water drip off of her finger. She felt the cold shock her like a bucket of freezing ice, felt it deeper than she had ever felt anything in her life.

But, at least, she could still feel. Some people weren't so lucky.

Fred's blood mingled with the rain on the pitch black pavement, almost indistinguishable from each other. She watched as his life slowly left him, draining and pulling away in the most slow, agonizing way possible. Ripping away from him what little energy he had left, depriving his heart of everything it needed.

She rushed to his side, her arms immediately encircling him. She wanted to save him, she wanted to keep him from the horrid fate that she knew awaited him. She wanted to make all his pain go away. She wanted to kiss him and just make it all better, make all of this just a bad dream that they'd laugh about later.

"It's all my fault… It's all my fault" She sobbed, her words muffled by the rain.

Fred weakly smiled back at her, mustering all the energy he could. "Good, you're back now… you're back to the way you were." He reached up to touch her cheek, Hermione was terrified that his hands were colder than the winter air around them. He was fading fast.

"It was all… worth it."

Hermione's face twisted in anguish. "No it wasn't , you idiot! You can't just give up on me like this! You can't… You can't just leave…."

Her angry words melded into despair, the tears finally overwhelming them. She didn't know what else she could say. She knew that any words she offered would be a horribly inadequate representation of the intensity of her feelings.

"It's… not your fault, love." Fred spoke, his voice barely strong enough to reach her above the pounding of the rain.

Hermione shook her head, her eyes closed, unable to watch the only man she'd ever loved die.

"Look at me." Fred commanded, with what little strength he had.

Her eyes met his, and they rang truer than anything she'd ever known.

"Kiss it all better, love. I'm not quite ready to go yet." His lips quirked up in a smile.

Hermione had to smile back. Even now, at the end of all things, he still found the strength to make her smile. Despite the hopeless twinge to his words, despite the fact that he knew it was over, still he believed in them.

She pressed her lips to his again, and again that same fire exploded inside of her. Why did it have to be him, why now? Why, when they'd finally reached a place that they could be together, did fate decide to cruelly tear them apart? Her mind swarmed with images of what they could have been – a couple, a husband and wife, a family. So many things that they could never reach anymore.

Fred plead, his voice growing weaker with every breath.

"Do me a favor, baby?"

Hermione nodded her head vigorously, willing to do whatever he asked, regardless of how extreme, regardless of how dangerous. After what he'd done for her, after all they had been through… she would go to the ends of the earth for him.

"Stay with me… until I fall asleep…"

Slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes closed.

Hermione's heart lurched, and she held him as close as she could. Sobs wracked her body, robbing her muscles of any energy they used to have. She felt his heartbeat grow fainter with every breath, felt it struggle to stay alive, felt it fight with everything it had. All she wanted was to help him somehow, all she wanted was to reverse the damage she'd done.

Fred had told her that it wasn't her fault… but she couldn't help feeling that it was.

She looked at his form, lying motionless, devoid of life. There was nothing left for her here now, nothing left to fight for. All she could do was avenge him, all she could do was fight for him.

Maybe, maybe then, his sacrifice wouldn't be such a waste.

"This is your fault, Jack…" She spat through clenched teeth, her sorrow boiling into anger and frustration.

"Now, now, I didn't do anything. I simply stood here and watched. And what a show it was." He smirked, the expression sinister and evil.

Hermione's fists clenched, her rage burning anew. The loss of her memory, Fred's sacrifice, everything fueled her determination. Finally, she knew what she had to do.

"Expelliarmus!"

Jack barely dodged her spell, his expression calmly neutral. It was almost like he expected her to retaliate this way, almost like he wanted her to hate him. Almost like he wanted her to fly into a rage and fight with reckless abandon.

It was almost like he enjoyed seeing her this way.

She dodged a curse that he sent her way, noting how his aim was horribly off. Had he been drinking? Or was he simply toying with her? Either way, her goal remained the same.

Only one of them would leave this confrontation. Only one of them would make it out alive.

This was her last gift to him, the only thing that she could do.

She would not let him down again.

XXXXXXX

The pain was too much. It was like every bad memory she'd ever had, every rage she'd ever had at every bully who'd ever picked on her, every feeling of loneliness when her parents turned her away, every thought of rejection, terror, fear, despair…. It was all magnified into something absolutely monstrous. It was more than just physical pain, more than just her nerves telling her brain that something was wrong. It struck her very soul, it tore her own essence apart.

So this was why she was supposed to obey Voldemort. To avoid pain like this.

She was vaguely aware of Charlie by her side, her eyes barely registering the spells flying through the air. Voldemort seemed to be winning, tearing apart allies on the other side like they were parchment. Harry still stood, with Ron right next to him, both of them shooting off spells fearlessly. She wanted to say that they were doing well, wanted to be encouraging, but she couldn't ignore the bodies that covered the ground like a carpet, or the stench of rotting flesh that hung in the air so thick that it nearly choked her.

She hoped it would be over soon, one way or another.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Hermione thought that she knew what feelings were. She thought that she knew the burning fire of passion, the uncontrollable power of anger, and the farthest reaches of love. She thought that she knew the serenity and peace that came with the quiet of a rising sunset. She thought she knew the pain of standing at yet another friend's grave. She thought she knew the fear of a pitch black room and a midnight storm. She thought she understood the fury of the gods, thought she understood the solitude of the wise and the recklessness of the young.

She thought she knew so much.

As she watched his blood pool around her tennis shoes on the pitch black pavement, felt his life slip right through her fingers, felt the aching chasm in her heart where he used to be, she began to realize that she had sorely underestimated the true potential of human emotions. She had never felt so many things at once, swirling together inside of her like the giant storm clouds above her. Leaving nothing but darkness and destruction everywhere they went.

She didn't understand anything, not until she had loved and lost that which was most important to her.

There was no other way to calm the storm than to eliminate the life before her. There was no other way for her to be at peace than to take the life that had taken the love of hers. Her adrenaline pounded through her veins, filling every nerve and pore with an undeniable drive. Her hands shook with fury as she gripped her wand, her eyes narrowed at her newest target.

"Come now, Hermione. There's no need for any of that." Jack stated, refusing to be shaken by the obvious fury before him.

"No need? You kill Fred and then think that there's no need for this?" Hermione shouted, her voice as jagged and broken as the feelings inside of her.

"Don't you see, Hermione? I did us a favor. Now you are free to be with me without having to worry about him. Now you are free to spend the rest of your life with me, free from his memory and his pain. You don't have to feel conflicted about your feelings towards him anymore." Jack shrugged as he spoke, as if these things were the most logical conclusions in the world.

Jack held out his hand. "Come, Hermione. It's time to go home."

Hermione's eyes glazed over like the fog surrounding them, and her fury evaporated. Her expression became neutral, her drive quenched, her desire lost. She put her wand away, wondering why she had been so intent on using it just moments before. She was so tired, so exhausted, so worn out all of a sudden. Maybe it was… best….

Jack smirked. He knew that his brainwashing would still hold power over her, he knew that he could still control her whenever he pleased. He enjoyed setting her free on occasion, just to see those brown eyes burn with passion and fire. The little glitch from Fred's kiss hadn't exactly been planned, but it appeared that no permanent harm had been done. The plan was still intact, Hermione would still be his and Fred would still be dead. As long as they reached the same conclusion, the events that led them there didn't really matter, right?

Right?

He reached out his hand as she stepped closer. What an asset she would be to the death eaters, what a psychological blow it would make to Harry Potter and his friends. What a soldier she would be, with her extensive knowledge of potions, attacks, spells, and the enemy. She would, by far, be the greatest achievement of his entire career.

He would never let her out of his sight again.

She reached up and took his hand, her grip slippery from the rain. She looked around the alley, confused and baffled. Her eyes landed on Fred's dead form, and her eyebrows furrowed. "Did something happen here?" she asked.

Jack smiled at her. "Just a street brawl, love. Nothing to be concerned about."

She smiled back at him, completely oblivious to the chaos all around her. "Okay. I know you'll protect me."

He pulled her into an embrace, her limp and submissive form unable to resist any longer. Slowly, she brought her arms to wrap around his neck, stood up on her toes to match his height.

And that was when he felt her wand pressed to his neck.

He chuckled to himself. What a clever, clever girl. He shouldn't have been surprised, really. It wasn't anyone that could catch his eye, wasn't anyone that could draw his interest. And it certainly took a special girl to get him to fall for her, over and over and over again.

"It won't bring him back, you know," he said, his chin bumping her shoulder a little bit.

He felt her tense slightly at his words. He knew that she knew it was true, but he didn't think that it would affect her ultimate decision. Once she made up her mind about things, nothing could deter her from her goal. Just like when she made up her mind about Fred, and when she made up her mind about Jack himself.

She was the only one he would ever go to the ends of the earth to find. She was the only one who could put him through so much torment, so much pain, and still hold his heart in her hands.

She would always be the only one.

Hermione's grip tightened around her wand. She took a deep breath, steadied herself for what she was about to do. She had always managed to avoid killing another, resorting to only disarming spells or maiming spells. Honestly, she didn't think she was capable of ending another human life. She didn't think her soul could carry that heavy burden, didn't think it could take another scar. She told herself time and time again that she would never be so desperate or angry to take another human life, regardless of the circumstances.

Once upon a time, she thought she knew what those feelings were.

She thought she knew so much…

"Avada kedavra."

His lifeless body slumped to the ground, and with it all her misgivings and doubts. By releasing the curse she also released her own anger, her need for revenge, her desire to see him pay for all the things he'd done to her. She stared at his body, reminded of all the times he'd hurt her, and knew that even if she brought him back and killed him several more times it still wouldn't be enough. She could not release the pain, she could not release the hurt.

She could not heal the gaping hole in her heart.

She turned and walked away from his body, watching as his blood mingled with the rain, watching as yet another life drained away. The rain continued to beat down on the pavement, lightning continued to strike and thundered rolled menacingly. Her tennis shoes were full of water and her hair stuck to her face. The fog did not clear, the storm clouds did not move on.

She thought that victory would have felt better than this.

Alone, she walked back to Fred's body. It was the least she could do to bring his body to his family, to provide him with a proper burial. She couldn't save his life, but she could do this much at least.

His face was so pale. She shuddered to think how cold he would be, how unmoving, how very unlike the Fred she had known in real life. Even in his sleep, Fred was never this quiet. He was so full of life all the time, regardless of the circumstances. So willing to face whatever he had to for those that he truly loved.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself for side-along. She reached out with her hand, willing herself to keep her composure. She placed her hand on Fred's chest, directly over his heart. His body was exactly as freezing as she thought he'd be, the cold rain draining all of the heat left from him.

And that was when she felt the beat.

Her eyes shot open and whipped to his face. Could it be possible? It was so faint she may have imagined it. Maybe she really was going crazy, maybe she was losing her mind-

No. There it was again. Terrifyingly weak, but absolutely undeniable.

His heart was still beating. For a few more moments, he was still alive.

Hermione's heart soared in her chest. Finally, there was some thread of hope for her to cling on to. It was tenuous and thin, but it was something. She had something to fight for again.

She immediately apparated to Hogwarts with Fred in tow. There was no time to wait for someone at the Burrow, he needed help now.

XXXXXXXXX

Hermione and Fred landed in a heap in Hogwarts in a deserted hallway. Fred still bled a terrifying amount. Hermione whispered a hurried spell to at least slow some of the bleeding, but she knew that they needed a more advanced healer to take care of the rest of the damage. She also hastily cast a sleeping spell to help Fred's body heal what little it could on its own. It wasn't likely that he'd be waking up anytime soon, but the spell would also help regenerate his cells.

She hefted Fred up on her back, cursing her recent lack of exercise. Her knees strained and her muscles protested against the extra weight. It would be a long, hard trek to the infirmary.

As soon as she rounded the corner and saw all the dead bodies, however, she realized that the infirmary may not have any vacancy.

XXXXXXXXX

Harry heard another blood-curdling scream, no doubt from a fatal wound, but didn't dare look to see who it was. He tried to ignore the thoughts that plagued him, the guilt that he knew would assault him once he realized how many had died for this. He tried to focus on what he was doing, tried to focus on the only goal he had had for his entire life.

Voldemort had to die.

Harry dodged a spell, the green bolt shot over him, missing him by mere millimeters. He had to stop thinking so much. He was getting distracted, he was too busy worrying about his friends to focus on the battle before him. He was too busy thinking about Ron as yet another spell flew towards him, too busy wondering if this would be Pansy's last fight, too busy wondering what Hermione was doing with an unconscious man on her back –

Wait, Hermione?

Harry barely recovered from his shock in time to dodge yet another spell. He could tell Voldemort was getting impatient with him, could tell that Harry wasn't putting his whole heart into this. Still, he couldn't focus. He could tell from the expression on Hermione's face that something was horribly, terribly wrong.

Charlie rushed to Hermione, his eyes immediately filling with fear as he recognized the man on her back. He pulled him off, helping to alleviate some of the dead weight she had to carry.

"Later… you are explaining this." He said sternly, his voice gentle but firm.

Hermione nodded, grateful that she didn't have to get into all the messy details quite yet. For now, their priority was saving Fred.

Charlie lay Fred down behind a pile of rubble that could provide some sort of cover. Hermione kept watch around them, making sure no death eaters would try to attack them while they were off their guard. Pansy joined them shortly, her face pale, her knees shaky. She nearly fell when she attempted to sit down, catching herself with her hands.

Hermione saw a glint of panic in Charlie's eyes as he saw how much pain Pansy was in, and she was abruptly reminded of the expression of panic on Fred's face when he found out what Jack had done to her. Just that small motion made her long for his presence even more, just that twinge made her entire heart ache for him.

He had to survive. He had to.

Charlie's brow furrowed in concentration as his eyes darted between Pansy and Fred. Both were in agonizing pain, both could very well be on the precipice of death.

However, maybe they could help each other.

"Hermione, a spell was placed on Pansy when she was born that refuses to let her fight against Voldemort. Wouldn't you say a curse of that magnitude takes a considerable amount of energy?"

Hermione thought for a second. "Well, yes, of course it does. To bind someone's will and monitor their thoughts constantly, and then deliver pain as a punishment whenever necessary… it would have to be a very complex spell that only an advanced wizard could do."

"Do you think that , when the spell was cast on Pansy, it required more power than it would really ever use? I mean, think about it. They had no idea how long Pansy would live, right? So to be safe, they would want to use enough power to last several years. If that's the case, then the spell has only used a small portion of the power that actually went into it. So, all that extra power is still within the spell. " Charlie asked.

Hermione stuttered. "I suppose, now that I think about it… yes, it would be possible, of course!"

"What if we transferred said power to someone who was, I don't know, dying? Do you think it could heal them?" Charlie asked, his eyes growing brighter with every word.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, yes! If everything goes well, I think we could! However, I'm not sure what kind of side effects this will have on them. Will Fred end up with Pansy's curse? Would Pansy even survive?"

Pansy coughed abruptly. "I won't survive much longer anyways in this state. The curse has figured out that I have no intention of turning to the other side. Now it's… only a matter of time."

Again, Hermione saw that same expression in Charlie's eyes. The desperation, the fear, and the helplessness that she had felt not so long ago. She found herself wondering exactly how deep Charlie's feelings for the dying girl were.

Charlie reached over and gripped her hand in his. She clutched onto him with both hands, hanging on for dear life.

"Hermione, get professor Dumbledore. If anyone knows how to do something like this, it's him. And hurry- I don't think we have much time."

Hermione nodded. She took one last glance of Fred, willing him to stay alive just a little while longer. She forced her feet to move, forced her body to move as quickly as it could through the rubble and the smoke. She knew that each second was precious, each breath that she took which seemed so natural and effortless took massive amounts of strength for Fred. She pushed as hard as she could, determined to smite anything that got in her way. Despite everything that had gone wrong, she had been given a second chance to do this right.

This time, she would not fail.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everybody they really are encouraging, even if it's just a short note to say you're reading and you enjoy it so far. I know this chapter was shorter than most of the previous chapters, but it was still pretty intense. I'd love to know your thoughts on it. Thanks for reading!


	24. Chapter 24

A Christmas Wish Chapter 24

Hermione's heart pounded and her legs threatened to give out. Each desperate, gulping inhale of breath reminded her how very little time she had left, how very urgent the situation was. Every muscle in her body ached and throbbed. Her strength faded like the noise from the battle in the distance. The hallways that she knew so well seemed endless and repetitive, none of them taking her to her ultimate goal.

One question throbbed within her mind, pulsing painfully with every breath she took.

Where could Dumbledore be?

She knew that Pansy and Fred's fate were completely up to her now. If she could somehow find Dumbledore and he could help them transfer the power of Pansy's curse into Fred's life force, then maybe they could live. She knew that it was Fred's best chance for survival, she also knew it was Pansy's best chance for freedom.

The life of her friend and her lover hung in the balance, and it was up to her to swing their chances one way or another.

She didn't dare stop to catch her breath, she didn't dare slow down for a second. There were lives at stake now, and she couldn't afford to dwell on the pain she was experiencing. She couldn't just cast a spell and make it all better, she couldn't just make a wish and expect things to come true. She couldn't just ask Santa Clause for something, and expect it to happen.

No. Now it was time for her to step up and create her own destiny, instead of waiting for someone else to do it. She couldn't wait around for someone else to make it happen for her, there was no time for hoping and wishing anymore. She would fight with everything she had to make her dreams a reality, she would drive her enemies to the ground if she had to.

Her body ached with pain and agony, yet her pace never slowed as she rounded another corner. Maybe, just maybe, this hallway would lead to Dumbledore.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry thought he was going to die. Voldemort had thrown him several feet, disarmed his wand, and left him completely defenseless. His back ached and his head throbbed. He reached for his wand, but there was no way he'd be able to reach it in time. He was finished.

He hated to admit it, but a part of him felt relieved. Finally, it was all over. Finally, he could rest and be at peace. For once in his life he didn't have to fight and struggle against another's unbending and unyielding will. He could give in. He could let the darkness claim him and forget that any of this had ever happened.

But there was a much larger part of him that was far more concerned for the fate of his friends.

What would happen if he just gave up? How would their lives change if Voldemort was finally in control? Could any of them be truly happy? Nothing would ever be the same again.

Harry saw the glint of victory shining in Voldemort's eyes, knew that he was preparing to deliver the killing curse. His prey was at his mercy, unable to defend itself. The moment that the dark lord had been waiting for so many years, was just within his grasp…

"Stupefy!" Draco's voice shouted out.

Harry's eyes opened in shock, but it was nothing compared to the level of surprise and anger in Voldemort's eyes.

"Come on, Potter. You can't give up on us yet." Draco grabbed Harry by the arm and yanked him to his feet, thrusting his wand into the boy's hand.

Harry probably would have feinted in surprise if this was any other situation, which would have rendered Draco's efforts to get him to stand completely worthless. However, this wasn't any other situation. They didn't have time to sit around and talk about their distrust towards each other, they didn't have time to work out the other's motives. They had a war to fight.

Harry glanced towards Draco, hoping that he would find an ally by his side instead of an enemy. He wasn't sure what kind of emotion he'd find when he looked into the other boy's face. Years of torment and animosity had closed them off to each other, forced them into opposing sides. It seemed that, despite all that, they still ultimately fought towards the same goal.

Freedom.

Voldemort's gravelly voice cut like ice through the thickening air. "I'm going to assume that the vile teachings of this place have finally gotten to your head, boy. No matter, a momentary lapse in judgment is no reason for me to turn away one of my most loyal followers. Help me now, Draco, and regain your honor."

Harry saw a gleam in Draco's eye that he did not like. As much as he hated Voldemort, he had to admit that the guy had an uncanny way of knowing others' motivations. It was no secret that the Malfoys had lost nearly everything in the past couple of years, ever since Lucius had been sent to Azkaban. Their title, their prestige, their money, their fame… no doubt Draco was missing the life that he once had.

"Do you remember how it used to be, Draco? Do you remember when the world was at your feet, and you had everything you'd ever wanted? Fame, fortune, power, glory… it can all be yours again. When all of this is over, I won't forget the sacrifices you made for us. I will reward you immensely, you will never want for anything. What do you say, Draco?"

Harry countered, "You know you were never really happy with that life, Malfoy! You can't just go running back to it and expect everything to magically change!"

Draco's eyes darted back and forth between his ally who was once his enemy, and his enemy who was once his ally. He could revert to the life he'd been raised with, the life he'd always known. He could retreat to the comfort and familiarity of a predestined fate. Marry a pureblood, have babies, leave millions to his children and widow when he died. He knew the life that awaited him on the other side.

On the other hand, he could reject his upbringing and fight for something new. He could become a totally different person. He could break away from the rigid plan for his life and be whatever he wanted to be. He didn't have to be bound by someone else's will, didn't have to live up to someone else's expectations anymore. He could marry whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He could reject the dogmatisms that had been shoved down his throat since the day he was born.

But, more importantly, he could change who he was.

To Draco, the answer was clear.

He snarled at his former ally, becoming more confident in his choice by the second.

"You have no control over me. Not now, not ever. Even if I die here, it will be my choice, not someone else's. This is my story to write, this is my path to follow. You are not my life anymore."

Voldemort tilted his head to the side, almost as if he didn't truly comprehend the magnitude of Draco's words. In the end though, it really wasn't that important. Voldemort had an entire army at his disposal. What difference could this one boy possibly make?

"Tsk. Such a pity. You had so much promise, Draco, so much potential. But it doesn't matter. I will find someone else to fill your shoes, don't ever doubt that."

Harry interjected, "Don't listen to him, Draco. You chose to fight, and no one can take that away from you. Now, let's finish this."

Draco nodded. He was just as anxious to see the end of this as Harry was.

In a split second, their wands flew back into action and spells erupted through the air once again.

XXXXXXXXXX

He held her like nobody had held her in her entire life. He kept whispering sweet nothings in her ear, promises about a future together that grew dimmer by the second. He tried so hard to keep her hopes alive, however, her faith began to dwindle just like her heartbeat. Doubt began to creep through her thoughts like a poison through her system, like the curse in her veins. He stroked her hair in an attempt to comfort her, not caring how dirty or messy it was. Through it all, he never gave up on her, and never once let her go.

Pansy had to admit, if she had to die one day anyway, she might as well go like this.

She never thought that she would be able to experience a romance quite like this, and let alone with a Weasley. She never thought that she'd be able to open herself up to another person, not after all she had been through. She had seen what happened to people who fell in love, how they crumbled and withered away when their partners disappeared. She had seen couples torn apart by the ravages of life, she had seen love die again and again. She had decided long ago that it wasn't something she would pursue, it wasn't something she would even wish for.

But now…

Now, here at the end of all things, she wasn't so sure.

It felt so strange having someone to protect her. Strange, but not unwelcome. She was so used to fending for herself, so used to fighting for everything she had. When Charlie wrapped his arms around her and swore to hex the living daylights out of anyone who came within twenty feet of her, well, that was different.

She had to admit, though… she could definitely get used to this.

If, of course, they even survived.

Charlie did a stellar job of protecting both her and Fred. He was losing a brother and a – well, whatever she was. And yet he still managed to keep his wits about him, still managed to shoot spells like he was born to do it. She saw enemy after enemy fall before they even got close to discovering their little hideout behind the rubble.

Pansy saw a blur out of the corner of her eyes, and forced her head to turn. She was losing so much strength; it was becoming harder by the moment to fight off the pain. Her weary eyes focused on the object, and gradually she recognized shapes. Frizzy hair, a school uniform, a white beard, glasses….

Thank Merlin. She had found him.

Maybe there was some worth in holding onto hope after all…

XXXXXXXXX

Charlie had to admit, he didn't think that running marathons was very high on Dumbledore's priority list. He'd always thought that the old badger had something more important to do, like save the world and make other people solve riddles in life-threatening crises. Not to mention, the man was well past his prime in years. He was sure that exercise was dead last on Dumbledore's to-do list.

However, for an old guy, he sure was quick. Hermione gulped in deep breaths of air, trying to catch her breath, but Dumbledore looked like he had just had his morning coffee.

At least one of them had some energy, he thought to himself. They were going to need all they could get.

Dumbledore knelt beside the two, assessing the damage and calculating all the best possible ways to fix the situation. He looked from Pansy to Fred, from Fred to Pansy and back again, his brow furrowed in intense concentration and his beard wagging back and forth. He reached for Pansy, his wizened old fingers quickly finding her pulse in her neck. It was weak, but she was still alive.

Charlie also didn't miss the twinkle in the old man's eyes as his gaze landed on him and Pansy's interlocked hands, and the slight smirk that graced his features. Maybe the old man had known all along that something like this would happen.

Dumbledore reached for Fred next, his eyes scanning his body and taking in the extent of the damage. He still bled from his stomach, but not as badly now. Charlie put plenty of pressure on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding as much as he could. Hermione quickly replaced him, kneeling at his side and gazing into his face like he was the last thing she'd ever see.

Agonizing seconds ticked by as Dumbledore continued to analyze, think, calculate, diagnose. He ran possible steps through his head, reversed and tried again, changed tactics, tried a different approach. Charlie could see that Hermione was losing patience, her eyes flicked to Dumbledore's constantly, demanding an answer or a solution. He was her only hope, his genius mind was the only chance they had anymore.

Finally, Dumbledore nodded. The gesture seemed so final and so resolute that nobody doubted a solution had been reached. Hermione sat up straighter, Charlie leaned forward. Even the vicious shouts and screams from the battle seemed to quiet in the wake of the intensity. Everything rested on this next moment, the lives of their loved ones hung on his next words.

Dumbledore began, "Not anybody can cast a spell successfully. Every spell takes a certain measure of magic, a certain amount of power. At the heart of every spell, at the heart of every witch, wizard, and magical creature, is an unending well of this same power. One must be able to access this source in order to cast a spell."

Charlie gulped. This was sounding more complicated than muttering a few words and waving a wand around.

"It is one matter to take just enough energy off of the surface and cast a spell, it is another thing entirely to find the source and control it completely. Every witch and wizard has the ability to become in touch with this power, but few possess the discipline. I myself wasn't able to until I was well into my adult years. It is unlikely that either Pansy or Fred is able to do this, and it is even more unlikely that both will be able to."

Hermione scratched her head. "I'm not sure I understand, professor. You mean there's this regenerating pool of… of something? Inside of us?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course there is, dear child. You don't run out of magic if you perform several spells, do you? That's because you are constantly re-creating the magic that you've lost, constantly refilling your reservoir. The most powerful witches and wizards could regenerate this energy incredibly fast, which allowed them to perform complex spells one right after the other. However, they were still only pulling portions of their energy, they weren't controlling the entire system. To find the wellspring itself and conquer it… that is something few ever achieve."

Hermione interrupted, "I'm still not sure I understand. Fred and Pansy both have to find the source of their power? How can they do that when they are unconscious?"

Dumbledore raised a wizened hand gently yet firmly to calm her questions. "All excellent questions, miss Granger. I should expect no less. As much as I wish that we could control their power for them, this is not something we can do. This is something that they will have to do for themselves. Once they do this, they can not only command their power to cast spells, but they can transfer it from one to the other. Only then can the curse be turned into life, only then will that which was meant to destroy be used to save."

Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. "Where would they even start? How would they even know where to go? If you couldn't do it until your adult years, then how can they manage to do this now, and while both of them are on the edge of death?"

Charlie saw a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, and felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach.

"They will not be alone."

Hermione's expression twisted in confusion. "What?"

Dumbledore chuckled. He had never heard her utter a less eloquent response, although it wasn't surprising given the situation.

"They are trapped – they are not quite alive, yet not technically dead either; they are somewhere in between. They don't know where to go, don't know who to follow. There will be many voices enticing them to pursue many different paths, and the one they ultimately decide will determine their fate. You must show them where to go."

Hermione argued, "But how will we know where to go?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "If you love him as much as you think you do, the answer will be clear."

Hermione pursed her lips and contemplated his words in silence. She glanced down at Fred's sleeping form, her eyes slightly misting over. She remembered how he risked his life for her, how he was dying because he tried to save her. Never before had someone shown such a deep level of devotion and… and love. She knew that refusing to help was not an option, she knew that there was no going back.

She had decided that she would create her own destiny, and she wouldn't cower or flee from the consequences.

"I'll do it," she said resolutely. "Whatever it takes."

Dumbledore smiled, and the twinkle returned to his wise blue eyes. "Very good, miss Granger. Although you should know that once you enter this realm, you can only return with him. If you fail in your mission, then you will not return at all."

Hermione shook her head, her will resolute. "It doesn't matter. I've made up my mind."

Dumbledore smiled. He had never been more proud of his students, had never been more satisfied in the work that he did as a teacher and mentor. He had watched them all grow from children into adults with poise and grace. He knew that when his time on the earth finally did end, he would be leaving the future of the magical world in good hands.

Charlie looked at Pansy's face, her expression calm and quiet, so unlike her usual intense and thoughtful expressions. He saw all of her regrets and fears, all the things that had scarred her beyond recollection and all the things that had turned her away from love. He saw how she faced her biggest fears with unflinching courage, how she returned to a life she despised for the sake of a girl that she hardly knew. He saw her show faith in them, when she had sworn off faith a long time ago. He knew that it was the least he could do for her to show her the same kind of devotion, and the same kind of courage.

He also knew that he couldn't live without her.

Charlie looked at Dumbledore and nodded his head just once.

"I'll go."

Dumbledore nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Lead them to the source of their power. When they find it and can control it, I can direct the energy. Only then will they survive. Either both of them are successful and live, or both of them die. We cannot do this halfway."

Charlie gripped Pansy's hand tighter, wondering if she could feel him, wherever she was.

"I cannot give you any more instruction other than that. Each person is different, and each person will encounter different challenges along the way. I wish I could tell you exactly how to prepare, I wish I knew what you would both face. But I do not. Know that their lives are now in your hands."

Hermione nodded briskly, determined and strong, refusing to show a single ounce of weakness.

Once again, Dumbledore was amazed by the sheer fearlessness of these young people. What things they would accomplish, what a world they would create. He only wished that he would live to see the way the world changed and morphed under the guiding hands of these teenagers.

"I believe in you."

Hermione and Charlie nodded at each other, their hearts pounding and their blood thrumming through their veins in sheer anticipation. They were both venturing into completely uncharted territory, and neither one knew if they would be coming back.

"I'll go first," Hermione piped up. She knew that if she waited any longer, her fears might overtake her frail courage. She didn't want to let that happen, she didn't want to have any regrets.

Dumbledore nodded, turning towards her. He pressed his palms together, closing his eyes. Hermione wondered what he was doing without his wand, but assumed that this was a spell that didn't require the use of a wand. Dumbledore had mentioned, after all, that it originated ages ago. Maybe it had been created before wands even existed.

Hermione felt a tingling sensation in her fingers and toes that slowly spread to the rest of her body. Gradually they began to go numb; she began to lose feeling. Slowly, ever so slowly, it continued conquering the rest of her body. Her arms and legs went next, her torso, her neck. The noises that were so impossibly loud just moments before became dull and muffled, almost as if she was underwater. She began to lose focus of the scenery around her, shapes and colors losing their distinction. She couldn't even feel her heart beating anymore.

She glanced down at Fred, her fears chased away and her courage reinstated just by the sight of him still alive, still fighting. She would fight with him, just as hard, until the very end.

She whispered, "See you on the other side."

Then, the world went completely black.


	25. Chapter 25

A Christmas Wish Ch. 25

It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was beautiful and haunting all at once, it was mysterious and alluring, full of intrigue and questions. However, it also warned of secrets that should forever remain hidden in its darkest corners. The evergreens surrounding her offered protection from the outside world, but she couldn't help feeling trapped within their branches. The world constantly changed and moved as more memories and experiences were gathered. Flowers bloomed, withered, and died in a matter of seconds. And there were some things, like the giant, solid oaks that she passed, that had stayed the same forever. The scent of flowers and honeydew wafted through the air, but there was also the scent of blood, fear, danger.

There were so many feelings and emotions, all at once. There was kindness and bravery and love, and yet it was tainted with the ever-present growing darkness of doubt and fear.

And death.

It was a less than pleasant reminder of the purpose of Hermione's visit. Regardless of how beautiful the scenery was, the threat of death still loomed over everything.

Hermione stepped through the trees and made her way to a small garden. It was like a dream, almost unnatural in its peace and serenity. It was a splendor of color, bright green splashed upon the leaves and grass, electric blue filled the quiet river, hues of pink, orange, and violet danced upon the flowers.

And, sitting in the middle of it all, a young boy with red hair so vibrant it put all the other colors to shame.

However, despite the beauty and the grace within the garden, there was something about it that sent chills up and down Hermione's spine. She saw the water rushing through the river. She saw several birds chirping in the air. She saw the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. There should have been a symphony of sound, a glorious combination of the garden's music.

There was nothing but silence. Cold, empty, dead silence.

Hermione tried not to let it bother her, tried to ignore the chills that ran down her spine. She was on a mission, and couldn't afford to be deterred. Maybe the boy would know more about this place.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked.

The boy turned, and his compelling blue eyes met her. Her eyes quickly registered the angular jaw, the prominent freckles, the lanky figure. He was several years younger, but there was absolutely no mistaking who he was.

It was Fred, as a young boy.

His face scrunched in confusion. "What are you doing here? No one ever comes here, this is where I go to be alone." He turned back around, and drew his knees up to his chest.

Hermione was unsure of how to react. Being an only child, she had very little experience dealing with children.

She knelt next to him on the grass, her white dress a contrast to the vibrancy around them. "How long have you been here?" She asked conversationally.

The boy shrugged. "Long enough, I suppose. I don't really know."

Hermione nodded. There were so many things she wanted to ask, but suddenly she was so unsure of what to do. Part of her ached to spill the entire story about her and Fred, tell him she needed to find the source of his power in order to save his future self's life. But part of her wondered if he would understand, or if he would just think she was crazy and run away. She had to handle this carefully.

"Why are you sitting here all by yourself?" She asked. Maybe he would remember his family.

The boy spread his legs out on the soft grass and laid back, staring up at the sky. He looked slightly to the side, almost as if he was ashamed.

"I think my mum loves my sister more than me," he admitted.

Hermione hid a smile at his confession. She had similar thoughts herself as a child, so unsure of the world and those around her. However, she knew Mrs. Weasley, and knew that there was no chance of that in a million years.

"Why do you think that?" Hermione asked, tilting her head to the side.

The little boy shrugged. "She gets more attention than the rest of us. Mom used to play with us, but now all she does is hold the baby. Do you think I did something to make her mad?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "No, Fred. Your mom loves you very much. She's probably just tired now, that's all. It's hard work keeping up with a baby. Do you remember when Ron was born, and the same thing happened then?"

Fred's face scrunched in confusion. "You know my brother Ron?"

"Uh, er, yeah! Yeah, I do." Hermione recovered.

A smile split the boy's face. "Wow! That's so cool!"

Hermione sighed in relief. She had never been more thankful for the fact that children were unconditionally trusting.

"So, you don't think she's mad?" The boy asked.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Your mother will always love you, Fred. Go back to them, tell a joke or two, and cheer them up. They'll appreciate it, I promise."

Fred hopped up on his feet immediately. "I'm good at telling jokes! Wanna see?"

Hermione laughed, but her laugh was cut short. The world around her started to fade, the distinctive flowers and trees started to lose their shape. Colors started to melt together, like a painting left out in the rain. Finally, the boy that had seemed so real moments ago was merely a faded splotch of color in a canvas of smears.

Hermione stood up and glanced around, but could see nothing but gray as far as she could see. There was nothing above her, nothing below her. She didn't even know what surface she was standing on, didn't know where she was supposed to go. There was simply endless, countless, nothingness.

Maybe this was where the real Fred was, her Fred. Maybe if she just looked around, she'd run into him eventually.

She couldn't think of any other way to find him, so she took one tenuous step forward.

FWOOOOOOOOOM!

Her hair whipped into her face and noise screeched, she winced at the tone. She reflexively took a step back, trying to protect herself from whatever had appeared. Her arms wrapped around her head, and she crunched into a ball.

Tentatively, she opened her eyes. The world of gray had turned into a scene that she knew all too well, a world that was achingly familiar. People milling and shoving about, voices trying to be heard above the raucous noise, suitcases and bags shuffling through the chaos. A steam engine chugging along, exhaust pumping into the air. An enormous train, speeding by just moments ago, less than an arm's reach away.

She was at platform 9 ¾. The thing that had almost bowled her over was the familiar Hogwarts Express.

"You know, they told me I'm a wizard!" Hermione felt a hand wrap around her wrist, and a voice that held the potential of the one she knew so well.

She knew who she'd see before she turned around.

"That's great!" She exclaimed to an eleven year old Fred, his eyes impossibly bright with hope.

"I'm gonna make so many new friends at school. I'm great at making people laugh." Fred exclaimed.

"And you'll learn a lot, too!" Hermione excitedly added.

Fred scrunched up his face. "I don't really like all that learning stuff…"

Hermione knelt so that she would be at eye level with him, thinking carefully about her words. "You know… learning is important, but what's much more important is the friends you will make while you're at school. Spells and enchantments are good to know, they can make life more convenient or get you a good grade. But things like loyalty, trust, honesty, companionship, and courage… those are the lessons you will remember forever."

Fred cocked his head to the side, his eleven-year-old brain struggling to process her words. Why would one need courage, if there was nothing to fear? Why would one need trust if no one could possibly hurt you? His perception of the world wasn't quite what it would be in the years to come.

"You'll learn to face your fears here, Fred. Learning not to run away when your friends and family need you, even when you're scared… that is what's most important." Hermione added.

Fred looked up at her and smiled. "I'll never run away when you need me, Hermione,"

Her heart stopped when he said her name. He knew who she was? Was she getting closer to her destination, closer to finding the source of his power?

Hermione smiled at him, her affection for this little boy growing with every encounter. "I know you won't, Fred. I know that I can always count on you. You're brave, and strong, and fearless. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

Fred laughed and rolled his eyes. "Duhhh! I'm invincible!"

Hermione laughed at his antics. As abruptly as her laughter cut through the noise, a single, shattering, slice cut through the entire world. Everything around her froze, all the noise stopped. She frantically glanced around, watching as the cut traveled directly below her, right in between her feet.

She took one last look at the boy, thinking about all the changes he would experience in the next few years. It was nice to hold onto this one moment, when everything was simple. When there was nothing but friendship, love, and peace.

Her moment shattered when the two halves of the world ripped apart, and dropped her into the abyss.

She fell straight down, the scene before her growing smaller by the moment. She reached out for something to grab onto, something to slow her fall. Her heart slammed in her ribcage, she was going to die, this was it. Nobody could survive a fall like this, every single bone would be broken, she couldn't even see the bottom, wouldn't even know when she hit, wouldn't even feel it when she-

OOOOOF!

Hermione slammed into a solid surface, and yet, felt no pain. Gingerly, she reached her arms underneath her, and picked herself up.

And then abruptly fell another few feet to an equally hard surface.

Hermione rubbed her back, already feeling a bruise forming. "Yep, this is definitely Fred's brain, alright…"

She heard a familiar chuckle to her right, but couldn't place the voice. "Why Hermione, dear, how did you get in here? Shouldn't you be out there with the rest of them?"

Hermione turned, and was greeted with none other than the portrait lady.

Was she going backwards now? That didn't seem right. She was looking for Fred. Maybe she had somehow taken a wrong turn…

"I… I don't know." Hermione shook her head. What was she supposed to do now?

"Oh, the students are returning from dinner, child. You should probably get out of sight, it wouldn't do for them to see you in here." The portrait lady pointed out.

Hermione turned and saw what she meant. The surface that she had originally crashed into was none other than a rectangular frame, portraying the familiar halls outside the Gryffindor common room. Somehow, she had managed to land inside the portrait lady's frame. She ducked to the side quickly, heeding the portrait lady's advice.

"Banana Fritters." She heard an unfamiliar voice call.

She saw the portrait lady nod her head, and felt the entire world rock as the door swung open. She was thrown from one end of the room to the other – if it could even be called a room. She stumbled, regained her footing, and slowly righted herself.

"Banana fritters."

Abruptly, she was tossed back to the other end of the room as the door swung open again. She barely managed to catch herself before she fell yet again.

"How do you put up with this?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, you get used to it. It helps if you sit down, like me."

"Banana fritters."

Hermione plopped to the ground just before the door swung, heeding the portrait lady's advice. Instead of being tossed within the room, the room simply moved around her. She watched as the grassy hills tilted from side to side, the sky and clouds weaving around each other. As the door shut, everything righted itself again.

"That is… incredible…" Hermione muttered to herself. What kind of magic was this? She had to return here, had to do further research –

"Banana fritters."

Immediately her thoughts stopped. She would know that voice anywhere.

She bolted towards the frame, bracing her hands against the wooden pieces and willing her knees not to shake. Her eyes landed on Fred's blue ones. His eyes lit up in recognition, softened in desire, but then scrunched in confusion. He obviously wasn't expecting to see her inside the portrait lady's frame. She reached out her hand towards him, desperate to make contact, desperate to save him.

This was her Fred. She knew it.

Abruptly the door swung open, and the world hurled once again.

Hermione was launched forward, she felt her body fall through the frame, felt her tennis shoes catch on the last piece of it as she tumbled yet again. She turned in mid-fall, watching the frame disappear behind her once again.

What was happening to her now? She had found him, she knew that she had! That was her Fred, the one who swore to love and protect her, the one who faced death again and again just to see her smile. Finally, she had found him, and now this? She didn't know where she was going, didn't know if she'd even see Fred again. What had she done wrong? Could she even find him again? Was Fred going to die just because she couldn't figure out this stupid mind game of his?

She was so frustrated, and so stressed. His life hung in the balance, his heart dimmed with every beat, and she was being thrown around in some twisted world. How the hell was she supposed to help him if she couldn't even get her bearings? She was sick of it all, she just wanted everything to –

"STOP! Just stop already!" She screamed.

Surprisingly, it did.

Hermione froze mid-fall, her arms and legs still outstretched, her hair stiff and unmoving. Gingerly she moved her leg, bringing her foot down, and finding solid ground beneath her. She brought both her legs down, then her torso and arms. Tentatively, she took a step.

Slowly, rain began to fall, quickly drenching her. She looked up and squinted through the droplets, but didn't see a sky anywhere. She looked back in front of her, and slowly the world began to take form. She saw pitch black pavement underneath her feet, brick buildings on either side.

A trash can lid next to her feet.

Her heart caught in her chest as instantly she realized where she was. This was the alley where she had killed Jack, this was the alley where she had tried to kill Fred.

As soon as she thought of the two men, their bodies appeared. Fred, lying on the pavement, his life pouring out of his body. Jack, menacing and dark, standing at the end of the alley. Somehow he still managed to look dark, despite the moonlight that bathed the scene.

"I'm dying, you know." She heard a voice to her right.

His voice.

Fred sat casually against a brick wall, looking healthy and very much alive. Hermione's head whipped back, and saw that another Fred still lay dying, bleeding to death slowly on the dark pavement. Her mind questioned how such a thing could be possible, but her heart didn't even really care. All she knew was that her Fred was finally here, and for a few moments everything was right again.

She launched herself into his arms, and he held her tighter than he ever had before. They didn't say anything for several moments, both of them relishing the other's embrace for what might be the last time.

"I've come here to save you," Hermione said, her voice muffled by the rain.

She felt Fred shake his head. "I can't be saved anymore, Hermione. That wound was fatal. It's taking all my energy just to stay here like this, just to exist halfway."

Hermione sat up abruptly, looking him straight in the eye. "But that's not true! Dumbledore found a way to transfer Pansy's curse into a healing spell, all we have to do is find your power!"

Fred looked at her like she was crazy. His expression then turned to suspicion, and then at last, sadness.

"Not again…"

Hermione felt like a dagger had passed through her chest. What was that supposed to mean?

"You're just another illusion. Just another figment of my imagination." Fred said hopelessly as he put his head in his hands.

Hermione shook her head, wondering how she could turn this situation around. "No, no Fred it's me! It's your Hermione, I've come here to get you out-"

Fred chuckled, "I must be really crazy for that girl, you know. Wanting her so badly that my own subconscious creates illusions of her, even when I barely have the power to think. I was so convinced you were real, so convinced you were her."

Hermione took him by the shoulders, trying desperately to be heard. "You have to believe me, Fred! I am Hermione!"

Fred sighed, completely ignoring her pleas. "I was so convinced you were her, too. You look just like her, but so did the rest. However, there's something more to you, something that even my own brain couldn't replicate. Something that's very uniquely… Hermione."

Hermione gazed into his eyes, wanting so badly for him to simply recognize her.

"I must really be going crazy…"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no you're not going crazy. It's really me, I promise."

Fred sighed. "I thought it might be her when I felt everything stop, just for a second. That seemed like something she would do, getting so frustrated and upset that she just loses her temper and yells at the world. Heh, I can see it now…"

Hermione took a moment to process his words. She had controlled her environment for that split second, hadn't she? She had wanted it with all her heart, wished it more than anything, and it happened. Did Fred really love her so much that she was now a part of him, and that part recognized that she could control it as she wished?

An idea spun in her head. Maybe she could still convince him.

"Do you remember that time we went horseback riding?" The rain slowed in its downpour, and the asphalt faded beneath them. Vibrant grassy hills covered the world, a bright blue sky embraced the landscape. Slowly, the red barn rose in the distance, exactly the way Hermione remembered it.

Fred looked up at her, his eyes still showing suspicion, but also a glimmer of hope.

"We had just gotten in a fight, and you wanted to make it up so badly. Of course, I blew it when I dropped the bomb about Jack. But I'll never forget it."

Fred nodded. "Of course I remember. You changed my life that day, Hermione."

"Do you remember when you saved my life, taking a knife for me?"

The peaceful, grassy landscape faded to the ravaged kitchen Burrow. The red barn was replaced with an army of death eaters, the cheery bright sky darkened to the shadowy night. Fred watched as the battle proceeded, exactly the way he'd remembered.

There was no denying it now. The memories she had, the way she remembered everything, and the way she could control his world so effectively… She was real.

Fred's eyes lit up with excitement, and he leaned forward towards her. He reached out and held both of her hands, refusing to let go to what he had been looking for for so long.

"Hermione, it really is you. I can't… I can't believe you're here, I can't believe you would come so far for me." Fred exclaimed.

Hermione laughed, "What did you expect, really? We are Gryffindors, we tend to plunge into life-threatening situations, don't we?"

Fred chuckled, the motion felt so foreign yet not unwelcome. It was healing to laugh after being alone for so long, it felt wonderful to hold her in his arms again.

"But Hermione, how are you going to get out of here? I'm done for, but you still have your entire life to live. You could move on, maybe get married, have some kids –"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't want any of that. Do you know what I want?"

Fred gazed at her, his heart pounding and pulse thrumming.

"I want to be with you, Fred. Nobody else."

Slowly, the environment began to react to Hermione's thoughts. The destroyed burrow and the battle within morphed into a small cottage, nestled in a cozy neighborhood. Fred watched as, seemingly out of thin air, he and Hermione appeared. They were both older, but still had so much love in their eyes. He watched Hermione stoop down, reaching for something.

When she stood back up, she had a child in her arms, with red curly hair and bright brown eyes.

"It's all I've ever wanted."

Fred felt tears form in his eyes as he watched his Hermione – his wife – kiss his daughter's cheek. He watched his daughter wrap her little arms around her mother's neck, completely trusting and loving. He watched Hermione hand his daughter to him, and watched the way his own face glowed with love and adoration at the sight of his daughter.

He'd never wanted anything so desperately in his entire life.

"That's what I want too, Hermione. That's exactly what I want."

She smiled up at him, and he saw his entire world in her eyes. He saw all the love and affection he would ever need. He saw his future, his hopes, and his dreams.

He had never felt so alive.

"I'll love you forever, Hermione."

Hermione beamed. "I'll love you forever too, Fred. No matter what happens here, no matter what happens to the rest of the world."

Fred chuckled. "But, you know we can't have just one kid…"

Hermione laughed as she watched another toddler run across their front yard, in addition to the one that her older self held in her arms. She saw a window open in the house, and two small heads peek out of the opening, one with brown hair, one with auburn.

"Maybe a dog too? I've always wanted a dog." Fred added.

A giant golden retriever ran around the corner of the house, chased by several garden gnomes.

Hermione laughed heartily at the sight, loving the way their dreams were coming together, building off of each other, creating something entirely new. Both of them were painting a picture together, filling a bland and hopeless canvas with life and dreams.

Suddenly, all the people in their dream turned and looked straight at them. The older couple smiled knowingly, much like a parent towards a child. It was as if they knew this would happen all along, as if it was destined to happen.

Slowly, everything began to glow. It started softly, but quickly grew to a blinding light. Hermione couldn't see anything anymore, not her family, not her future. There was only Fred.

"I don't know what's happening!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Just hold onto me," Fred directed. He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he could. She buried her head in his chest, trying to block the light that was becoming so overpowering.

"Don't let go," She begged. "Don't ever let me go."

Fred kissed the top of her head. "I'll never let you go again, baby. As long as I live."

Abruptly the world turned white, and everything vanished.


	26. Chapter 26

A Christmas Wish Ch. 26

Pansy thought that she'd never see this place again. What once was so familiar and welcoming seemed distant, foreign, unknown. Had she really changed so much in the past few months? This was the place that she'd called home for her entire life, the place where she made cookies with her grandparents and ran around the yard with her friends. It was the place where she'd first discovered her love of writing, the power of the written word and the rapture that came with a truly perfect moment. It defined who she was, it formed the woman that she became.

Why, then, did she face it with such suspicion and apprehension?

_It's because I don't see it the same way I did before,_ she thought to herself. _Yes, there were good times, but there were also bad times…_

She thought of the loneliness of those dark, endless hallways. She thought of the emptiness behind the eyes of the millions of portraits, the dullness of their treasures, the suffocating silence of the corridors. It was grandiose, the lawn was well-manicured, it was the envy of all the purebloods. But it was haunted by a loneliness and a hurt that was so intense and real, it could never be escaped.

Maybe it had never really been her home, just a pathetic substitute for the life she could have had.

Absently, she ran her hand along the hedges as she walked along the stone cobbled path towards the entrance. She glanced at the roses in the garden, their full red blossoms carefully maintained year-round. The cold, white manor loomed before her, almost imposing and threatening in its magnificence.

She wondered what Charlie would think if he were here, and a pang of loneliness stuck her once again. Would she ever see him again?

Instinctively, she reached for her journal for comfort. She opened it to the last entry, but confusion scrunched her features when she saw the date on the entry. She flipped the pages in disbelief, refusing to believe that it was truly the last entry.

However, there was no mistake. The last entry in her journal was dated three years ago. There was nothing regarding her experiences at the Burrow, her adventure to save Hermione, or her romance with Charlie.

She struggled to continue her thoughts, however, they slipped away one by one. She imagined the Burrow with its cluttered yet homey appearance, with the scent of roast and the noise of thundering feet filling the crowded hallways. She imagined Charlie, with his electric blue eyes that somehow managed to be incredibly gentle despite how bright they were. As hard as she tried to hold on to these memories, one by one they began slipping away.

She couldn't remember the name of the youngest Weasley, the girl they were always fussing about.

She couldn't remember the first conversation she'd ever had with Charlie, although she thought it had been important.

And, the father… where did he work again?

She shook her head vigorously. She had to get out of this place, it was doing something to her head that she couldn't fully understand. She just had enough time to recall and cling to her memories for a second, but then they escaped, leaving her only with confusion at her scattered and unknown thoughts. She remembered a treehouse, but then seconds later she had no idea why she had been thinking of that rugged shack outside the Burrow. She remembered the attack and how she'd run so far, but moments later she had no idea it'd ever happened. Slowly, she could feel the days, months, and years being robbed from her.

She had to get away.

She shook her head vigorously and blinked. Was she going to do something? It seemed so important moments ago, seemed imperative. Why couldn't she remember it now?

She shrugged. If it was important enough, she'd remember it later.

She continued her trek to the front door, gripping the cold metal doorknob with her left hand. She turned the handle and pulled, the massive door swinging open with a groan. She stepped into the dark, musty house, closing the door behind her.

Everything was exactly the way she'd remembered. The massive white marble lobby with the curved staircase, the banister in the middle of the lobby. The second level decked with velvet green carpet. Everything was still immaculately clean.

She smiled to herself. She was home.

XXXXXXXXXX

Charlie had to admit, he didn't know much about wandering around inside people's souls. He absently wished that he could have done something he was good at to prove his love for Pansy, instead of going on a magical quest to find her powers within the depths of her heart. Maybe instead, he could have tamed a dragon or flew through some flames on a broomstick. Girls dug stuff like that, didn't they? Throw in some danger, add a pinch of bravado, toss a wink her way and she'd be swooning. He knew that game well, he had played it many times before.

This, however, was way outside of his area of expertise.

So far, though, he thought he was on the right track. He figured that if Pansy were anywhere, she'd be at the massive manor looming on the horizon. He'd been lightly jogging towards it for a while, and was getting closer. He wasn't sure what he'd find there, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to do. He just hoped he'd be smart enough to figure it out in time.

He wasn't sure what he would do if he failed. Sure, physically he would die, but emotionally he would be broken. He didn't want to face that, didn't want to know that Pansy died because he couldn't fulfill his end of the deal.

He had to stop overthinking. It was only going to make him nervous, it was only going to freak him out. He purposefully strode towards the front door, briefly noting the solid black roses on the bushes. He knew Slytherins were creepy and angsty, but black roses? That seemed like something that was reserved for sociopaths, or Broadway musicals.

For such an expensive place, the Parkinsons didn't seem to take much pride in it. It was overgrown with weeds, vines trailed up the massive columns, cracks split the stone foundation. What had once surely been a spectacular white paint had faded to a dull gray. A couple of rats scurried in the tangled bushes.

Charlie took a deep breath, and swung the door open. It groaned on its hinges, it obviously hadn't been maintained in many years.

The lobby was about as well maintained as the outside of the house was. A layer of dust lined the floor, what had once been a statue lay in pieces in the middle of the room. A curved staircase ran along the wall, its steps sunken and its rail collapsed. The second floor looked no better, Charlie could see several holes where the floor had fallen through. He smelled mold, and something rotten.

Suddenly, he heard a crash within the house. He wasn't alone.

Gathering his courage, he followed the noise. He tried not to sneeze as he disrupted the layer of dust on the floor. He headed straight across the lobby, and walked into what must have been the sitting room. It was nearly impossible to tell what colors the rotting curtains and couch had once been. A fireplace sat in the far end of the room, embedded into the wall. A single crack ran from the center of the fireplace to the ceiling. Every step he took, the floor groaned tiredly beneath his feet. All in all, it was a haunting and disgusting sight.

However, there was one beautiful thing that could not be tarnished by the destruction around her.

"Pansy!" Charlie exclaimed.

Pansy turned around, fear and suspicion evident in her eyes. "What are you doing here? I'll call the police, I swear I will!"

Charlie felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. "Pansy, you… you don't remember me?"

Pansy shook her head violently. "Don't try to fool me. That game may have worked on your previous victims, but it certainly won't work on me!"

Charlie cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "Previous victims?"

Pansy laughed proudly, so sure of herself. "Don't think I don't know who you are. You're Charlie Weasley, the mass murderer. You target purebloods and kill them, trying to gain revenge for the massacre of your family in the war. But your reign of terror ends right here, right now."

Charlie covered his face with his hands, his eyes staring blankly, refusing to believe his situation.

"That's not true at all, Pansy! You don't remember the summer you spent with us, the time at the Burrow?" he argued lamely, knowing that even then it was a lost cause.

Pansy laughed mockingly. "Wow, your sales pitch could really use some work. Please tell me that Daphne wasn't dumb enough to believe that one."

Charlie asked, his voice feeling defeated. "…Daphne?"

Pansy shouted, "Don't tell me that you don't even give your victims the decency of remembering who they are! Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, the first you ever killed! Then it was Millicent, then it was Goyle, then it was Draco. And now, I guess, it's me."

Charlie ran his hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the room as if he could find some kind of answer there. He couldn't stand to see her so angry at him, couldn't stand to feel so distant from her. It was like nothing had ever happened, it was like her memories had been replaced with a complete lie.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. Maybe, if only her memories had been erased, there was still a physical record of everything that had happened.

"Where's your journal?" Charlie asked suddenly.

Pansy jumped a little bit, her eyes alighting with fear and suspicion again. "I'm not telling you! You'll only use it to get closer to me, you'll only use it to hurt me." Abruptly she crossed her arms across her chest, going into a protective stance.

Charlie's heart ached. Pansy's fear of being hurt and mistrust of people was controlling her mind, controlling her memories. It had taken something that was pure and perfect, and morphed it into something twisted and demented. It had taken his brave, courageous Pansy and turned her into a scared animal. Despite her bravery, there was still a part of her that was very much controlled by her fear.

"You were brave once," Charlie said, "I remember it well. You'd been charged to spy on us, to lead an attack against my family at our own home. Mom took you in like you were one of us, refused to treat you like some kind of prisoner. You were fed, taken care of, and… loved. Eventually you found the strength to not only leave the death eaters, but infiltrate their ranks as a spy. You saved one of our own from them."

Slowly, Pansy's features softened. Her suspicion and fears still fought, her survival instincts telling her that this situation was dangerous. Yet, above all, there was something in her that wanted to believe what he was saying. There was something in her that was captured by his words, something about them that rang terribly true.

"Now, it's my turn to save you." Charlie added.

Pansy shook her head. "I don't… I don't know what you're trying to do. This isn't going to help you kill me, or whatever." Her eyes darted around the room and she tried to maintain her composure, but something in her had been shaken.

Charlie threw up his hands in frustration. "I'm not trying to kill you, Pansy! I'm risking my life to save you. This manor, this house, it is not the home that you think it is. It's only a trap, burying you in the fears that you conquered a long time ago."

Pansy furrowed her brow, mulling over his words. "I mean, it all sounds nice. Leaving the death eaters, fighting for something real. Being part of a family. But if I don't remember it, how can I trust that what you say is true?"

Charlie saw a glimpse of his Pansy in her eyes, he saw a hint of the bravery and fearlessness that he'd seen shine through her time and time again. Miraculously, he was making progress.

"Just check your journal. You wrote all about it." Charlie suggested.

Pansy reached for her journal, but before she opened it, her eyes narrowed at him and suspicion returned. "How do you know what I wrote in my journal?"

Charlie shrugged. "You gave it to me before you infiltrated the death eaters. You said that all your secrets were now mine to keep. I read it through, page by page, more than once."

Pansy shook her head. "That's impossible…"

Charlie reached in his coat pocket and pulled out the well-worn leather journal, filled to the brim with Pansy's words, untouched by her own fears. He held up her journal so that she could see it clearly. "It's very possible."

Suspicion and fear returned to her gaze again. "What kind of trick is this? How did you get a copy of that?" She strode towards him purposefully and snatched the journal out of his hands, flipping through its pages.

Breathlessly she argued, "None of this ever happened! I don't remember writing this, I don't remember any of these things. Whoever you got to copy these things, they do a great job mimicking my writing style, but… it's just… it's just not true!"

Suddenly, she stopped flipping, her eyes frozen on one single page. It was a page that Charlie had read several times, the last page she wrote before she left, the words that would stay with him forever.

Pansy stuttered, "It… it says that…. No, no that can't be right-"

Charlie interrupted, "It is right, don't run away from it anymore. You said yourself, right on this page, that you'd never go back to your old life. You said you would fight against Voldemort. You said you had finally found a family in the last place you thought possible. You said… you said you'd found love."

Pansy's eyes stayed glued to his, mesmerized by his passion.

"I never thought… that I could fall in love…"

Charlie smiled to himself. "That's what you told me when we first met, or something along those lines. But, Pansy, that's not true at all. You are capable for so much love, if you'd just open up your eyes and see it."

She wanted to believe his words, Charlie could tell. She wanted to believe that there was more for her than these dingy walls, more in her future than loneliness and anger. However, there remained the undeniable fact that she didn't remember any of this and she'd been told that he was a murderer. It had taken him months to work past her walls and get to know her, and that was under the best of circumstances. Could he do it again, when things were so much harder?

She looked at him, her cold emerald eyes warming and her gaze softening. It was an expression he had only seen on her face a few times, an expression that he did his best to memorize every time he saw it.

She asked, her voice wavering. "Did I… love you?"

Charlie smiled at her, his eyes more welcoming and warm than her house had ever been. "Yes, yes you did. You still will, hopefully, when all this is over."

Pansy's expression scrunched in confusion. "When all this is over? What do you mean?"

Charlie's expression immediately changed. "Do you smell that?"

Pansy laughed a little bit. "Um, what? Random much?"

Charlie walked a few paces, following the scent. "No, I'm serious. It smells like… smoke?"

"Now that you mention it, I smell it too. I must have left something in the oven, maybe it burned…" Pansy stepped towards the kitchen door, her arm reached out to push the wooden swing door open.

Charlie pulled her back just before she walked straight into a wall of fire.

She flinched away from the intense heat, molding into his arms perfectly just like she always had. Charlie wished that this was any other circumstance, any other situation. He held her closely and stepped away from the door, only to see that the other walls were being consumed by flames.

They were out of time.

Charlie turned Pansy towards him, her expression a mix of terror and confusion. She gripped his arms, instantly pulling herself closer, the motion as natural as if she'd done it her entire life.

"Do you trust me?" Charlie asked.

He saw the doubt enter her eyes again, saw her struggle with her fears. He watched, though, as her expression set with determination. He watched her bravery defeat her fears once again, he watched her conquer her worst nightmares. He watched her push aside a lifetime of lies and hate, and accept him at his word, with no proof other than the dormant feelings inside of her.

His witch never ceased to astound him.

She nodded her head twice. It was all the answer Charlie needed.

He grabbed her hand and bolted towards the front door, the roof now engulfed in flame. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, trying to block out the smoke that was growing impossibly thicker every second. The heat was oppressing, the flames devouring the house with ravenous hunger.

Charlie gripped the doorknob, jerking it downwards to open the door. His heart stopped when he found that the handle wouldn't turn.

"It's locked!" He yelled over the noise of a section of the house collapsing.

Pansy tried the door too, only to confirm what Charlie had already told her. They were stuck.

"Quick, the window!" Charile yelled at Pansy, pointing to a window that was several feet off the ground.

Pansy grabbed a fragment of the shattered statue in the lobby, and hurled it at the window. It broke cleanly, taking out almost all of the glass.

"Quick, get on my shoulders, I'll lift you up!" Charlie instructed, walking over to the window.

Pansy argued, "What? I can't pull you up after me, you know that, right?"

Charlie waved his hand nonchalantly, "It's okay, I can find another way out,"

"There is no other way out!" Pansy yelled. "If you stay behind to lift me through the window, you will die in here!"

Charlie argued, "It doesn't matter, there's no time! Just let me boost you through the window!"

Pansy exclaimed, "I can't just leave you here! I can't just let you die."

Charlie smiled at her. "So brave, even in the face of death. Sweetie, you've already taken a leap of faith with me. You denied everything you knew, trusting that what I was telling you was the truth. That takes some serious courage. Now, it's my turn. Let me be brave for you, let me stare my fears in the face like you did."

He saw a single tear travel down her cheek. It was the first time he'd ever seen her cry, a single drop of healing that cleaned the soot and grime off of her face, leaving nothing behind. She shook her head wordlessly, begging for him to find some other way.

He took his face in her hands. "I love you, you know? I always will. Don't ever forget that, no matter how far you travel, no matter how many people you meet. No matter how many fears try to smother you in the dark, no matter how many doubts gnaw at your hope. Always remember that I love you."

She nodded. He nodded back to her. It was all they needed to say.

He grabbed her by the waist and she stepped up onto his shoulders, nimbly climbing through the window. He watched her until he was sure she was on the other side.

When she disappeared, he smiled. She was safe.

A roar erupted from the center of the house, and a wall of flame rushed towards Charlie like a tsunami. He watched as it annihilated everything in its path – the living room, the wall in the lobby, the staircase. It left absolutely nothing in the path of its explosive destruction.

Before he could even think to move, or run, pain exploded all over his body. And, then, there was simply nothing.


	27. Chapter 27

A Christmas Wish Ch. 27

Harry couldn't believe it was finally over. After years and years of searching for the horcruxes, endless nights spent wondering what the future held, bruises and aches and pains and broken bones and shattered memories. The price was high indeed, but it was worth every bit.

Harry would always remember the way he felt when he realized that he had won. Their wands had been locked in an epic exchange, his red spell colliding with Voldemort's green one. By sheer force of will he pushed his spell onward, his heart lifting every time it conquered a portion of Voldemort's. He saw the light leave Voldemort's eyes, saw his expression fall. Harry could feel his resolve ebbing away, dying with the last of the red spark dwindling from his wand. He felt like all the deaths of his friends and loved ones, all the time and energy spent on this one task, finally it was all worth it.

Harry's attention was drawn to the place where Voldemort had died. There was nothing there, not even a black scar on the earth. Nothing to show that he had ever existed, other than the ruin and the toil he had left in people's lives. He had no family, no friends, no one to love. He had left no legacy other than hate. After he was gone, the rest of the world would try to rebuild from the ruin he created. Within a few generations, all anyone would remember of him would be a name in a history book. After enough time passed, it would almost be as if he had never existed.

Almost as if he was nothing.

Harry refused to leave behind the same legacy. As much as he had in common with Voldemort, this was one thing that he would never accept for himself. He would not leave behind a bitter world, he would not live his life with purely selfish motives. He would try to make the world better. He would have a couple of kids. He wanted to be surrounded with friends and family when he died, not alone. He would have a family, have a wife, and grow old with her.

And he was going to start with that redheaded bombshell he'd been neglecting the past seven years.

XXXXXXXXX

Hermione woke up with a start. She shot straight up in her bed, her heart racing, her hair flying around her face. A mere split second earlier, her world had been enveloped in white. She had been wrapped in Fred's arms, both of them dreaming of their future lives together. Their dreams had intermingled, built off of each other, and eventually became one. And then… there was nothing.

The fog of sleep began to wear away, and the details of her quest became clearer. She knew that if she or Charlie failed, neither one of them would live. Therefore, she must have been able to help Fred find the center of his power, and Charlie also helped Pansy. Then, Dumbledore transferred the power of Pansy's curse, morphing it from something evil into something good…

So that it could save Fred's life.

Hermione tore her covers off, ignoring the chill that flooded her body. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she tore straight towards the door. She navigated the familiar hallways of the Burrow, thundering down stairs and whipping around corners. She didn't even bother knocking on the door once she found it, she just ripped it open as quickly as she could.

And there he was, lying peacefully underneath crimson blankets, absolutely dead to the world despite the sun streaming in through the window. Hermione wasted no time, sprinting through the room and launching herself on top of him.

It was, after all, not the worst way he could wake up.

"OOF!" Fred's eyes shot open and he clutched his stomach, which had been the target of Hermione's aeronautic adventure.

Immediately Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, engulfing his vision in a swarm of curly brown hair. Fred held her close, the foggy veil of sleep slowly lifting.

"We made it. I can't believe… we actually made it," Hermione laughed.

Fred shrugged, "Was there ever any doubt, sweetness?"

Hermione tilted her head to the side, asking for clarification.

Fred chuckled a little bit. "I think… it was probably always meant to end like this. You and me, fighting for our lives, Harry saving the world. Us falling in love. Of course we would fight with everything we had to make it last. Of course we would hold on to each other, even until the very end. Of course we would be together."

Hermione smiled, her heart filling even more with love for her man. Every word he said resonated with her own thoughts, with her very soul. He was absolutely right. Everything they had been through – all the fights, arguments, the pain, the sadness, the joy… everything had brought them to this moment. It had caused them so much heartache and had thrown them to the very brink of death, but it had also brought them closer together.

Finally, they were both exactly where they needed to be.

"Let's get married before Christmas, maybe around December." Fred mused.

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked at him in shock. "Fred Weasley, is that your idea of a proposal?"

Fred chuckled and shrugged. "Something like that. I've never been good at the whole romance thing. I could shower you with fancy words and phrases straight out of a greeting card. But what's the point? I know I want to spend my life with you, I know that I love you more than I've ever loved anything. What else do we need, really?"

Hermione smiled, his words settling in. She lay her head on his chest and curled in close to him, her future starting to become more clear and secure by the moment.

"Do you think we could convince Charlie to ask Pansy? Maybe have a double wedding?" Hermione mused.

Fred laughed boisterously. "I think it'll take more than a few convincing arguments to get him to pop the question!"

Hermione exclaimed, "I don't know why not! He's obviously enamored with Pansy. I've never seen him act that way around a girl."

Fred shrugged. "I'm sure he is, love. But it might take more time for those two. They have a lot more to sort out than we do, you know."

Hermione sighed, "That's true. There's a lot of history… I believe in them, though. I think they'll find a way to make it work."

Fred pulled his witch closer, letting the scent of her hair overwhelm his senses. He loved that she believed in everyone, he loved that she was optimistic about life and the future. He loved her courage, her strength, her intelligence, her wit.

He loved everything about her. Soon, she would be his, forever.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ginny had wondered for most of her childhood about the thoughts that took place behind the fabled lightning-shaped scar. She had wondered what his life was like, wondered about his likes and dislikes. She was fascinated by the way his eyes reflected light like an emerald, intrigued by his past and entertained by his wit. She had wanted to share everything with him for as long as she could remember.

However, she had realized a long time ago that her affections were one-sided. She tried to emotionally distance herself, then. She dated other boys, tried to busy herself with other things. She threw herself into Quidditch and her social life, doing everything she could to ignore the hurt and loneliness that festered within her every day. As the days, months, and years passed, she got better and better at pushing her true feelings aside. Soon enough, it was like they didn't even exist at all.

Of course, when Harry snogged her senseless after the battle at Hogwarts, he threw all her hard work out the window.

Now, it was all she could do to keep her heart from pounding every time she cought his scent. It was all she could do to not blush when she caught him looking at her. It was all she could do to not think about him, analyze his actions, and wonder what his intentions were. Years and years of pent up frustration, words that had never been said, feelings that had been quelled and silenced for far too long were too strong to ignore. They built within her, growing more powerful by the day.

Maybe, after all these years, it was time to stop fighting.

Maybe it was time to tap into her Gryffindor courage, and do something she told herself she'd never do.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Draco was hardly surprised. Of course the goody Gryffindors would fight to the very end and defeat Voldemort. Of course they would all end up together and plan weddings and such. Of course they would be best friends forever and skip through fields and tell each other how amazing they were.

It was all a little too much for a Slytherin to take.

Pansy probably had the same idea, it would explain why she left as quickly as she did. She left nothing but a note, and had taken off before she was even fully healed. The Weasleys had all seemed so surprised when they read her note, especially the tall one. Draco suspected that he'd had a soft spot for the little Slytherin. The way his eyes fell and his expression looked so crushed when he found out, it was almost enough to convince Draco that his feelings were real.

Almost. He was, after all, a pessimist by nature.

Charlie sort of withdrew into himself after that. Draco was never particularly close to the guy, but he could tell that something had changed deep inside of him. It was similar to watching a child's expression when they realized that the world wasn't full of good hearted people. It was like something that Charlie had fundamentally believed in throughout his entire life had been shaken, and he had been left standing with nothing.

Draco knew the feeling well. He'd met it on several occasions, and might even consider himself intimately acquainted with it. Charlie seemed like he had little experience in dealing with it.

Days after Pansy left, Charlie had returned to his own home. Draco didn't hear anything from him after that.

He did, however, hear from Pansy several months later. She sounded like an utter wreck. She kept asking annoying questions about the Weasleys, how they were doing, how they accepted her abrupt disappearance. They had to understand, she argued. They had to realize that she couldn't stay, she couldn't really ever trust anyone after what she'd been through. It was too much for her to handle at once.

Draco didn't think they understood.

He kept in touch with the Weasleys and with Potter after that, but he knew that they'd never be best mates. There were some things that time could not undo, there were some scars that simply went too deep. He was far too different than they were. There were some things that would never change, no matter how the world shifted.

Despite all that, though, he was glad he had gotten to know them. He was glad he saw a side of the world that wasn't tainted with selfishness and deceit. He had never known such selfless and unflinching, fearless love. He had never known bravery or courage, nobility, or morality like he had seen in them. They were lessons that he would carry for the rest of his life, things that he would hopefully teach to his own children one day.

He would never forget, no matter how much time passed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Molly Weasley thought that her house was far too quiet these days. Hermione and Fred were both bedridden (but not together, not yet! Not while she still had something to say about it!), Percy and Bill had both returned to their homes. Luna, who was unnaturally quiet during her stay, said that she would move to Muggle London and pursue a future in journalism. Harry had been in and out constantly, trying to squeeze in an interview here or a report there. Charlie had left mere hours after Pansy had, leaving them all in confusion and despair.

Molly still couldn't believe that that girl would just up an leave like that. It was ungrateful, and it broke her poor boy's heart. She knew her babies better than anyone else did, and it was clear to her that Charlie was absolutely infatuated with the girl. Maybe, one day, things would all work out.

Arthur still diligently went to work at the Ministry, although Harry had offered them enough gold for them to retire. Molly had absolutely refused, of course, as love and hospitality should be free. It was sweet of the boy to offer, but she refused to accept payment for something that family and friends should do anyways. Besides, he could use that money to provide for her little girl, when he got up the nerve to ask her.

Sometimes the quiet was refreshing. There was a certain peace that could only be found in the simplicity of solitude, a gentleness that easily got lost in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. This was the world that they had fought so hard for, this was the future that they had sacrificed so much to create. One of stability, equality, and endless possibilities.

She couldn't wait to see how the world would change.

XXXXXXXXX

Charlie knew that it was stupid to wish. He knew that there was no power beyond the universe that would hear his plea and somehow turn destiny around to satisfy his own desires. He knew that if you wanted something for yourself, you had to work hard and make it happen. Wishes and dreams were for children. He understood that, and yet, he couldn't help but wonder.

Nothing else had worked so far. He had tried owling her several times, he had tried asking her friends for her whereabouts. He had poured over her journal and visited her favorite haunts, had even swung by her house once or twice. Her family was actually fairly decent to him, which was oddly surprising. Maybe since he was a friend of Potter, he was a sort of minor celebrity now. In any case, he hadn't found any trace of her.

It had been months. He was starting to lose hope.

Snow fell heavily outside, signaling the onset of the winter months. The wind swirled snowflakes through the air, creating masterpieces right before his eyes. The stars gleamed from above, the moon bathed the pure white world in its haunting moonlight. It was a night of magic, it was an evening where anything was possible.

Christmas was supposed to be full of miracles, right? Somehow, without her, it all felt so empty.

He glanced over at the journal that had become so familiar to him over the months. He couldn't believe that she would just leave it here, couldn't believe that she would just drop something that was so precious to her. He thought that he knew her better than anyone, thought that he knew her deepest and darkest secrets.

What if everything had been a lie?

He shook his head to clear his mind. No, his Pansy was the real one. She had to be. She was the woman he loved, the woman he would search for forever to get back.

He would do whatever it took, even if it meant making a stupid Christmas wish.


	28. Chapter 28

A Christmas Wish Ch. 28

The sun shone impossibly bright on that day. Not a cloud haunted the sky, a slight breeze lifted the spirits of everyone in the yard. The scent of spring was in the air – blooming flowers, full green grass, and limitless unending hope. It was hard to think that, less than a year ago, this place had been ravaged by death eaters, filled with despair, shrouded in doubt and fear. It was almost like none of that had ever touched this place, nothing evil had ever crossed its doorsteps. It was exactly the way it was always supposed to be, it was exactly what they had been fighting for for so long.

Hermione tore her gaze and her thoughts away from the people outside, drawing her gaze back to the golden full-length mirror in front of her. She tilted her head to the side, taking in her appearance one last time. She tucked an unruly curl behind her ear, somehow the rebellious lock had sprung loose from her elaborate hairdo. Despite watching herself transform over the last hour from her regular self into a beautiful bride, it still seemed like she was staring at another person. A different Hermione, living in a place where people wore beautiful gowns and did their makeup every day. It was so different for her, an experience she'd never had before.

She supposed that feeling was fitting, though. After all, everything would change after today.

An abrupt knock brought her out of her reverie. She jumped a little bit, then regained herself. "Come in," She said to the doorway.

She heard the doorknob click as it turned, and the old door creak as her mother entered the room. Her mother looked years older than the last time Hermione had seen her, although it had only been a few months. Still, she cleaned up nicely for the event, wearing her best outfit and using makeup to hide the wrinkles and scars.

Her mother absorbed her daughter's appearance in one quick glance, and her face lit up with a genuine smile. "You look so beautiful, darling."

Hermione smiled in return, twirling a lock of brown curled hair around her finger. "Thank you, mom. It's good to see you, I'm glad you came."

Her mother smiled. "How could I miss my own daughter's wedding? You've grown up into such a strong, elegant young lady. You are far braver than I ever was, sweetie."

Hermione looked up and met her brown eyes, eyes that mirrored her own in every way. She tilted her head to the side, another brown curl springing loose yet again.

Her mother chuckled and tucked the wayward curl back behind her ear. "You sure got his hair. Impossible to fix, it is."

Hermione glanced away a little at the mention of her father. She had avoided the topic with her mother ever since her abrupt departure from their house several months ago. She didn't know how to breach that subject, didn't know how to conquer the conflict. She realized over the years that, no matter how many things she learned from books and school, there were some pieces of knowledge that would never be hers to understand.

"I left him, you know." Her mother said conversationally while she straightened Hermione's necklace, needing something to do with her hands. "I was making the coffee one morning, and I made an extra cup out of habit just for you. It made me think of you, and miss you. It made me remember your strength, and your bravery. It made me remember how fearless you are. How you chase down your fears and conquer them, instead of waiting for them to overwhelm you. That same day, I packed my things and left, and I've never looked back."

Hermione smiled, "Mom, that's great! You can finally live your life again, you can finally be free."

Hermione's mom smiled, but a tinge of sadness clung to her expression. What a sad world it was, when a daughter championed her mother for leaving her own father. Hermione deserved more than what they had given her, she deserved a family that was unbroken and untarnished. Hopefully, today would be the first step towards that dream.

"Yes, but that's not what's important today. Today is your day, sweetie. Your entire world will change today. Are you nervous at all?"

Hermione smiled confidently. "No, mom. I have no doubts at all. This is exactly what I've always wanted."

Her mother beamed with pride. She was so happy for her daughter, so happy that she was such a strong young woman despite what the world had thrown at her.

"I can't tell you that everything will be perfect once you get married. There will be hard times, and you will have to work through them. However, your love has already survived so much. I am confident that nothing will tear you two apart, no matter how rough life gets. You've turned into such a strong woman, Hermione. Despite all the pain and suffering you've endured, you still have so much unconditional love for the world. Together, you will both survive anything."

Hermione felt her eyes welling up with tears. She tried to hold them back as best as she could.

"He does not control you anymore. He can't touch you anymore. He can't ever hurt you again. This is your chance to truly be happy."

Hermione nodded, her hairsprayed curls bouncing up and down. She smiled, her mother's words warming her like a relaxing steamed bath. Today, her entire life course would collide with another's. Today, their paths would become one, mingling together like the meeting of two rivers. Never apart, never separated, no matter how rough the journey was. Together, forever, until the end of time.

"Now," her mother declared confidently, "Don't you have a wedding to attend?"

XXXXXXXX

He hoped beyond hope that somehow she would be there. During the ceremony, he scanned the crowd for any sign of her electric green eyes and midnight black hair. He knew that it was a long shot that she would just appear after being away for so long. He knew that it was a small chance, a very dim hope to cling to. However, he also knew that it wasn't impossible. And so he hoped.

Fred and Hermione looked just like a dream. They beamed at each other, and Charlie marveled at the pair that they had become. Who would have thought, a few years ago, that things would turn out this way? Who would have thought that love could be found in the darkest of places, in the most dire of situations? They had beaten unimaginable odds, and now would spend the rest of their lives together.

Charlie's heart swelled with pride for both of them. He watched as they said their vows, an air of finality settling around the backyard. He heard his mother sniffle from the front row, and knew that it was only the beginning of a barrage of tears. The golden sun had just touched the horizon, bathing the world in elegant reds and blues and purples. Their vows rang out like a song, poetic, passionate, and eternal.

When they kissed, the audience erupted in cheers. Charlie grinned as Fred drew the kiss out a little longer than was really necessary, and many of the men in the audience cheered louder. He was always a crowd pleaser, that one was.

When they surfaced for air, something was different about them. They were still the same people through and through, that much was true. However, while they had entered separately, they would be leaving together. They had fought the world alone for so long, but now, they had someone to fight with them. Someone to share in the joy and the pain. Someone to hold when the nights were too dark, when the doubts and fears were too strong. Someone to love and be loved in return.

He was immeasurably happy for them. He refused to let them see the small pit of loneliness that had curled up inside him at the sight of them together. He refused to let them be anything but happy.

XXXXXXXX

Fred couldn't have been happier. The love of his life was dancing in his arms, his family and friends surrounded him, and the firewhiskey and butterbeer flowed like a waterfall. He had just promised to spend the rest of his life with the one and only woman he would ever love. What could possibly be better?

Another butterbeer, that's for sure.

Fred left Hermione to dance with Harry while he made a beeline for the bar. Everywhere he turned, people clapped him on the back and smiled in congratulations. It was an environment unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It was joyful, unassuming, and full of hope for the future.

He hailed the bartender for a butterbeer, noticing another equally vibrant head of red hair parked in one of the seats by the bar. He tried to look like he was enjoying himself, but Fred knew better.

"I'm sorry she didn't come, man." Fred offered.

Charlie shrugged. "It's not a big deal. I just hope that, wherever she ends up, she's with someone who can make her happy. Some closure and an explanation for her running off like that wouldn't hurt, too."

Fred huffed in aggravation. "It is a big deal! Don't think we haven't noticed. You can't hide things like this from your own family, man."

Charlie stood up and walked over to Fred. "I don't want you worrying about me on your wedding day. Drink up, be merry, and go be with your woman. I will be fine. My problems will still be here tomorrow, so we can worry about them then. But nights like this only come along a few times in a lifetime. Enjoy it while it's here."

Fred didn't say anything, he just looked over Charlie's shoulder, seemingly mesmerized by something out of Charlie's view. A smirk slowly grew on his face.

"Fred? Are you okay?" Charlie asked.

Fred chuckled. "I think you're gonna be alright, Charlie." He grabbed his butterbeer and headed back to Hermione without any more explanation.

Charlie chuckled at his brother's antics. He was an odd one, not even marriage could change that. Out of curiosity, he glanced over his shoulder to see what Fred had been staring at.

And his world ground to a screeching halt.

XXXXXXXXX

Pansy felt like an idiot for coming. Everyone kept staring at her, like she was some kind of traitor, some kind of monster. Her insecure side wondered if maybe her pale green low-cut dress was too much, but her bold side confidently declared that all of them could screw themselves. She had a right to be here, just as much as any of them did. No, she had more than a right, she had an undeniable need. She had to fix one of her most grievous wrongs, she had to confront one of her worst demons.

She headed straight for the bar for a little bit of liquid courage. She didn't know if she could face the potential shame and guilt without it.

She hailed the bartender, and he departed shortly in his quest. She plopped down at the nearest barstool to wait.

Suddenly, his presence annihilated and overwhelmed her. Her heart both soared like it hadn't in months, and cringed in the corner of her darkest fears. She had hoped that she'd be able to warm up a bit to the party before having to see him. Yet, he was completely undeniable. There he was, sitting right next to her, as if he knew that she would come this way first.

Did he really know her so well?

He looked up and down her figure appreciatively. "Nice dress." He smirked.

Pansy laughed and felt a blush spread rapidly through her cheeks. Thanks to his lighthearted antics, the tension between them began to dissipate.

Pansy took a deep breath, and took a sip of her drink. It was now or never, she might not get another chance. "I know that you must have questions, after the way I left."

Charlie shrugged. "Not really, to be honest."

Pansy's heart plummeted. Didn't he care? Wasn't he at all bothered by the way she left, the way she cut off all contact?

"What do you mean?" She took a bigger sip of her drink.

Charlie stared into his butterbeer, as if all the answers in the world could be found in its golden bubbles. He thought for a minute, taking time to let his words come together. Pansy's heart pounded in anticipation. Was he angry at her? Was he bitter? Was he about to tear into her, and tell her that he never meant any of it? Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

"You were afraid, that's all it was. You had never been so close to anyone, had never let yourself become so vulnerable. So, to protect yourself, you ran."

He looked at her for confirmation. Dumbfounded, she nodded her head.

Charlie continued. "But, after you ran, you immediately felt a pang of regret. You'd left the best thing you'd ever known, just because you were afraid to give so much of yourself to another person. You told yourself that if you just kept ignoring the letters, if you just kept pushing yourself farther away, then maybe one day you'd be able to forget. But you haven't, and you don't think you ever will."

Again, Pansy nodded her head.

"So, that's why you're here. You realized that, despite whatever the consequences might be, you had to try to get back what you once had. You couldn't live the rest of your life knowing that there was a possibility for you to be happy, even if it meant you had to face up to your shame and guilt. You hoped that we'd take you back with open arms, no questions asked."

"Will you?" She asked tentatively, her world shaken by his accurate description of every thought she'd had for the last several months.

He stared into his glass again, absently swirling it around with his right hand. He stayed silent for an agonizing amount of time, although only a few minutes passed.

"I told you once that I loved you, and I meant it," Charlie confessed. "I couldn't turn you away. Not now, not ever. But what you did, Pansy… it…." He struggled for the right words to say.

"It hurt you, didn't it?" Pansy finished his thought.

He nodded, not meeting her gaze.

Pansy's heart clenched, her nerves burned with the shame and agony of what she'd done. She had hurt the only person she'd ever really loved. She knew she had to do something to make it right, she had to fix some of the damage that was done.

Abruptly, she took the glass out of his hand and set it down on the counter. She took his hand in her own, demanding his attention and focus.

"I was an idiot. I know that, and, I'm so sorry for what I did to you. I took everything that you had done for me and threw it back in your face. I let you fall in love with me and then hurt you worse than you could have imagined. But, Charlie, I was absolutely miserable without you. Nobody ever has been or will be what you are to me. And if you tell me that you don't want me anymore, then I'll never bother you again. But I have to know for myself. Is there any chance for us?"

Charlie grinned a little bit. "Of course there is, love. It might take some time, but it's certainly there."

Pansy smiled in relief. "You were always so good to me, Charlie. You were always so much more than I deserved. I'll never know how I managed to catch your attention."

Charlie chuckled. "I'm pretty sure you caught everyone's attention tonight, with that dress of yours."

Pansy buried her face in her hands. "I knew it was too much! Augh. I should have gone for something more low key."

Charlie laughed, the sound like music. "I'm just messing with you, Pansy. You look beautiful, just like you always do. And it'd be a shame to waste that beauty sitting at a bar. Why don't we put the serious talks on hold, and just go dance? There are several people who'd like to see you."

Pansy peeked in between her fingers. "They're not mad at me?"

Charlie shrugged. "Of course they are. But they won't stay mad for very long. The only way to find out is to get out there and face the music. So, what do you say?"

He extended his hand to her. So familiar, so welcoming, and exactly what she'd needed for all these months.

"All right," she said. She slipped her hand into his, and he pulled her into the crowd.

XXXXXXXXX

"I love you, you know that?" Fred whispered in her ear as they danced, losing themselves in the crowd.

Hermione giggled. "You'd better, cause now you're stuck with me."

"Good," he replied, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me either," Hermione smiled.

Fred laughed, "Remember when we all thought you were going to end up with Ron? Ugh. Gross."

Hermione laughed heartily, her mind wandering through their many adventures together. Had it really only been a year ago that she'd been infatuated with Fred's younger brother? So much had happened during that time. She'd learned so much, and grown from a timid young girl into a bold woman.

"I do remember that," she smiled fondly at the memories. "We have so many memories together."

"And now we get to create many more together," Fred pointed out. "For the rest of our lives. I'm all yours, Hermione."

She pulled him close. Finally, finally he was hers forever.

XXXXXXXXX

It was one of those nights that stayed with Hermione forever. She revisited it on rainy days, like pulling out a well-worn book and curling up by the fire. Sometimes when the stress of daily life became too much, she would remember how full of love and hope they had both been. When she felt despaired, tired, exhausted, she would remember the way everything had seemed possible that night. She would remember how it felt to hope for the impossible, how it felt to dream bigger than ever before. She would remember the unending love and warmth that came with giving herself entirely to another person. It had seemed like a dream – a perfect, unending, flawless dream.


End file.
